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By Phyllis Christopher 

Three friends, one attic and an afternoon of dress-up. 


The animus meets the animai in aitered states. 


By Lisa Palac 

A iook at the time-honored reiationship between 
sex and music. 


Essays on pop music's sexual side by David Aaron dark, 
RM, Sirius, Susie Bright, Dennis Harvey, Ann Powers, 
Cwendiynn Meno and Jonathan Hayes, 


By J.P. Kansas 

A woman finds joy at her fingertips in a world where 
heretosexuality is a fetish. 


By Mike Godwin 

CenderSwi 


topping On-Line, 


Elizabeth Williams 

''^>”f‘n»otlonaltechno,exual 
fetish info 2 


McCabe 


They showed us theirs, now we're showing you. 
The winners of our image contest. 


By Alice JOANou 

Sex introduction after gender reconstruction. 


By Granger Davis 

Another Taste of Honey, 


Irmu 


By Lba Palac 

^^•"9 into Rock's en>tlc Influence 




the Mustang Ranch, 











raSLISHESIS 

Martin Leung, William Weiss 

EDUTOK 

Lisa Palac 

ART RIRECTfiON 

Curium Design 

CULTURAL ATTACHE 

Richard Kadrey 

ASSOCDATE ERDTOR 

Mary Elizabeth Williams 

FBCTION ERfiTRR 

Allison Diamond 

copy EDITOR 

Paul Kretkowski, Amanda Lee 

CONTR8SUTINU WRITERS 

Steven Blush, Susie Bright, L Castle, Da\ . ^ 
Aaron Clark, Mark Faigenbaum, Mike 
Godwin, Keith Hammond, Dennis Ha^\^e^ 
Jonathan Hayes, Alice Joanou, J,P. Kansas 
Paul Kimball, Casey McCabe, Judy McGum^ 
Gwendlynn Meno, Laura Miller, Lou 
Osterberg, Ann Powers, David Rothschild 
R.U. Sirius, Aubin St. Malo, 

Rob Tannenbaum, Jaymes Trief 

CONTRIIHUTfiN<S PHOTOGRAPHERS 

Phyllis Christopher, Richard Kern, Michael 
Lavine, Nathan Mandell, Tom Pitts, J.K. 
Potter, Rocky Schenck, Alex Solca 

COVER 

Matt Gunther 

CONTR8SUT8NG ARTISTS 

Dennar Bildoon, Granger Davis, Comix 
Person, Mimi Heft, Jeff Gompertz, David Hill, 
Steven Johnson, Evan Sornstein 

ART ASSISTANT 

Maria Azevedo 

PRODUCTION ARTIST 

Elizabeth Kairys 

ART INTERN 

Snow Cohen 

ASSISTANT TO THE PURLISHERS 

Michael Johnson 

CiRCULATION DIRECTOR 

Daryl-Lynn Johnson 

INTERNS 

Keith Brown, James Ellsworth, 
Catherine Jones 

ADVERTISING 

Industria Media Works 
( 510 ) 893-1362 

Future Sex (ISSN 1061*6977) is published quarterly by 
Kundalini Ihiblishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Copyright © 
1994. 60 Federal Street, Suite 502, San Francisco, CA 94107. 
Application to mail at Second-Class postage rates pending at 
San Francisco, California, issue Date: Juiy-September 1994. 
No part of this publication may be reproduced in wliole or in 
part without pemiission from the publishers. Submission 
guidelines available upon request with a self-addressed, 
stamped envelope. Submissions will not be returned unle 
accompanied by SASF. 

.Annual subscription rates: 

U.S. S18, Canada $2? and elsewhere S55. 
Postmaster; send subscriptions and address changes to: 
Future Sex. P.O. Box 31129, San Francisco, CA 94131. 
Future Sex is a registered trademark of Kundalini Publishing, Inc. 
All rights reserved. Printed in U.S.A. 
Editorial/arculation: 415-541-7725 FAX: 415-541-9860 
Email; futursex@well.sf.ca.us 








































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□ 105 - The greatest seduction scenes ever filmed! 

□ 106 - Women with giant breasts smother you with lust! 


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FffliituOieM 

there FuturesexarianS; 
have read about your mag and 
finally picked up Issue 5 this 
week. Very stimulating, Bravo! 1 
am an online slut, delving deep 
into the potentials of the BBS 
chat mode and oh-so-hot corre¬ 
spondence, getting juicy in the 
cyborgasmic stew of electric love! 
Cool media for this female of 30 
years. 


Stacey Be 
yummy@dump.com 


totalei 

Issue 5 finally blurs the dis¬ 
tinction between art and porn 
that so many strive to do. The 
writing was excellent, the 
reviews invaluable and the pho¬ 
tos... inspirational. Hint: Tve 
noticed, as people thumb 
through FS, that they really key 
into the photos that appear to be 
portraits of real people express¬ 
ing their actual sexual selves, like 
Gabriella (Issue 3). Issue 5 has 
left everyone Tve shown it to 
with their mouths dry and other 
parts moist. 

Gary Montgomery-Trotter 
72163.1043@CompuServe.com 

inf! Ip 

T really like your magazine, 
and have a suggestion for the 
"ultimate" pictorial: a M/F cou¬ 
ple that does not practice ritual 
hair removal. Who invented this 
ritual anyway, Bic? The title 
would be something like: "The 
way we really are." 

Dave Wilcox 
hbw6430@gold.acns.fsu.edu 



1 picked up your magazine 
because it promised to be inter¬ 
esting—somewhere between 
standard porn and publications 
that are strictly fetish-oriented, 
such as O magazine. I like the 
balance of subjects: a bit of 
fetish, some ads for pornograph¬ 
ic CDs, sexploitation films. The 
whole range of modern sexuality. 
Actually, I think that Modem Sex 
would be a better name than 
Future Sex... 

Tom Unger 
unger@ra indrop.seaslug. org 



Tm a bit of a technologist 
(OK, computer geek) so I 
thought the presentation of 
cybersex in a magazine was 
interesting. Tm always curious to 
see how people think they can 
package science and technology 
to appeal to a, shall we say, 
unenlightened audience. Well, 
OK, I admit it, the virtual sex 
idea was kind of stimulating too, 
even if it won't happen for quite 
a while. After all, we tend to be 
voyeuristic creatures, don't we? 
To be able to be a voyeur from a 
participant's viewpoint, and 
eventually even feel what is 
going on...Yeow! 

Peter Reynolds 
100276.1340@CompuServe.com 



Are you another "Playtronic" 
or are you up to making some¬ 
thing more subversive, liberat¬ 
ing, irreverent? Will making love 
to a sentient consciousness pro¬ 
gram teach you more about how 
to connect with your inner and 
external partners? Can we learn 
with our machines lessons what 
we missed in the normal course 
of our lives? 

Please don't answer any 
questions. Stay in business. 
You're getting your rocks off 
with things have been used to 
control societies for thousands of 
years. 

Christian Lunch 
San Pedro, CA 



Issue 5 was good but I wish 
Future Sex was more explicit. 
Issue 3 was great—the photo 
layouts "Click!" and "Auto 
Erotic" especially, and Lisa 
Palac's editorial "Beauty and 
the Beaver" was right on the 
money. So let's have some 
more beaver — and boner—lib¬ 
eration! 

Joe Van Blerck 
New York 





















































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By LISH PAiAC 


T he other day I 

put on US3's ''Cantaloop" and started 
dancing around my apartment. I didn't 
think about it, I just did it. It was as 
instinctive as breathing; I had to move. 
Imagine a pumped-up version of Laura 
Petrie cutting loose in a black demi-bra 
and cropped leggings, shimmying (bra strap 
slipping down) and freakin' like she's crush¬ 
ing cigarette butts with the tip of her pointy 
shoe. It was like I'd been born knowing the 
steps. This hip hop song isn't even about sex, 
but the music felt so sexy to me I had to get 
down. 

It's a strange thing, the way music can 
pop your libido when you least expect it. 
Sure, lyrics make it easier to connect a good 
beat with what's happening in your pants. 
Listening to Prince beg, "Give it to me/Till I 
just can't take no more" on "Do Me Baby" 
(or on almost any Prince song, actually) 
turns me on, but it doesn't always take 
words for music to set off erotic impulses. 
My first whiff of lust came in 1970 from 
Tiger Beat babe Bobby Sherman. I lis¬ 
tened to "Easy Come, Easy Go" on an 
AM radio that was shaped liked a little 
rubber ball, and felt tiny rushes 


of...something...every time I heard his candy 
voice. My two closest girlfriends had respec¬ 
tive crushes on David Cassidy and Donny 
Osmond. It was very important that we liked 
different guys so we could all make marriage 
plans. The three of us practiced kissing our 
pillows, preparing for the big day. But my 
love for Bobby disintegrated after my first 
French kiss and his TV show Here Come the 
Brides went off the air. 

Then real seduction stepped in: Robert 
Plant. While Bobby S. made me wiggle under 
a girlish crush, holding my breath and press¬ 
ing my legs together, Robert Plant spread me 
wide open. (Cher actually came between the 
two Bobs, but it wasn't until college that I 
cast her in my starfucking fantasies.) Between 
guitar king Jimmy Page and golden boy Plant, 
I was filled with prurient thoughts. Soaked in 
Led Zeppelin's bluesy, driving sound, I 
became magnificently unglued. 

I had a big poster of Led Zep in the base¬ 
ment. It was tacked to a blackboard trimmed 
with the alphabet that I used for playing 
school when I was a little girl. I'd take this 
wooden pointer—just like in real school—and 
point to the different letters. Only at 13, I 
used the pointer to indicate Plant's infamous 


bulge. "Notice how it hangs to the left," 

I'd say to my teenage "students" in a 
school-marmish tone, and we'd crack up. 

In nearly every photo. Plant's shirt was 
sliced open to his humungous belt buckle, 
and his supertight jeans accentuated the 
worn-out spot on the left. We were fascinated 
by this thing, this monster in his pants. Little 
did we know that such an appendage was 
christening an entire subgenre of rock. 

Yup, Plant had a big one and his inten¬ 
tions were clear when he cried "Way down 
inside/Gonna give you my love/Gonna give 
you every inch of my love." He even offered 
to be my back-door man (whatever that was). 
But it wasn't simply the words that made 
their sexual mark on me. In fact, most of 
Zep's songs weren't about sex. It was either 
love come and love gone in the blues tradi¬ 
tion, or some weird mystical shit. Perhaps it 
was the bassline or the screaming guitar riffs, 
or Plant's delirious muhmuhmuhmOW's, 
but they can't fully explain this phenome¬ 
non: listening to Zep automatically made 
me thrust. 

It felt so good to push my hips for¬ 
ward and grind while doing lots of 
exotic lip movements. In front of my 



Dennar Bildoon 











□ 


mirror, Td imitate Plant's onstage 
actions: twirling goldilocks with finger, 
sticking out chest with both hands on 
hips, stretching mike cord across crotch 
and thrusting. When the landmark concert 
film The Song Remains the Same was 
released, I got to see Robert strut and 
writhe for two hours. (1 was one of the only 
girls in my neighborhood who went to see 
it and I sat through it twice in a row.) 
Imagine my shock, however, to see Plant 
with his wife and kids on the big screen, 
harshing my buzz. The other woman, devas¬ 
tation. I wanted him unattached, a free- 
falling star of sexual energy. 

Surprisingly, I never had sexual fantasies 
about Plant. I wasn't even masturbating yet. 
While I was intensely curious about his cock, 
it was his entire being that seduced me. I 
clung to his sexual presence the way frost 
sticks to a cold glass in the heat of summer. 
Slowly I began to realize something that I'd 
felt all along: I didn't just want to be Plant's 
chick. I wanted to be Robert Plant. 

Plant had a hold on something I was 
just beginning to trace the edges of: sexual 
power. I didn't wonder if his gender might 
make him less of a role model. With his 
long, blonde curls and provocative clothes. 
Plant walked the wild side of feminine 
whether he knew it or not. I respected his 
girlish charm and his unapologetic horni¬ 
ness. He had the same things inside of 
him that I had inside of me. I wanted 
the same respect. 

With their combination of electric 
thunder, sticky ballads and uncaged 
sexuality. Led Zeppelin led me to the 
border of my sexual awakening. Hey, 
until I was able to power up my own 
orgasms, rock and roll was my fuel. 

Now, 16 years later, I buy 
Zeppelin's box set. I throw on 
"Whole Lotta Love" and I remember 
every word, every lick, every nuance 
with absolute precision. Without 
thinking, I find myself banging 
away like a mangled shutter in a 
hurricane. The song definitely 
remains the same. 

This is the music issue of Future 
Sex, exploring the timeless way 
popular music influences our sexu¬ 
ality. We've asked rock stars, rap¬ 
pers and record producers to take 
the primal pulse of their scene 
(page 22). Next, we turned to the 
critics for their undressed views on 
rave, Goth, rap, pop, teen idols and 
groupies (page 30). In the struggle 
to figure out what makes music 
erotic, however, only one thing's 
for sure. You'll know it when you 
hear it. 


A music lover since the hippie days, 
illustrator Dennar Bildoon professes a long¬ 
standing carnal attraction to Ronnie Spector 
of The Ronettes, and is presently trying to 
come to grips with the peculiar idiosyncrasies 
of the Phrygian Mode. 



Lxplore the NeuroNEI by hacking Into the forbidden 
uiortd of dark mysteries, danger, and sensuality. Use 
your computer and the UidFone to obtain enough credits 
to uieui the erotic HeuroDancers uiho roam the computer 
netuiork in search of milling uiemers. 








BY LOU OSTERBERG 


A NOVICE JOHN'S VISIT TO 
THE NUSTANG RANCH 


t's a clear blue 

Nevada Sunday morning and Tm driving 
east on Interstate 80 away from the heart 
of Reno. Not going to church this morn¬ 
ing, Tm looking forward to a different 
kind of worship; a form of prayer not 
spoken highly of in the King James or 
any Sunday best-seller. My palms are sweat¬ 
ing slightly as I spot the Mustang Exit and 
leave the freeway. 

Crossing a small bridge, I see a complex 
with a few dozen cars in its lot. the entrance 
is enclosed by a large metal gate with letters 
across the top that spell out Mustang Ranch 
in wrought iron. A metallic female silhouette 
makes me think of disco girls in cowboy 
boots. 

Walking to the gate my heart pounds. 
I've never been to a brothel—or even a prosti¬ 
tute. I'm nervous and trying not to think 
about it as I press the buzzer. The gate opens 


and I get the feeling I'm entering some south 
Florida minimum-security prison. 

I'm relieved to find that the place has a 
warm if distinctly suburban feel to it. A 
woman in jeans greets me and says, "Hi. 
Most of the girls are eating or busy right now 
but Michelle is free." Michelle is sitting on a 
nearby couch. She has big hair, a receding 
hairline, an inch too much eye shadow and 
an overly curvaceous figure bulging out of an 
ivory-colored skintight mini-dress. "Thanks. 
I think I'll grab a cup of coffee." I walk over 
to the bar that divides the large, oval-shaped 
room. 

I take a seat in the middle of the long 
curved bar and get a coffee. The bartender 
asks me, "First time here?" I wonder if it's 
that fucking obvious. 

"Could you tell?" 

"Nope, just a common question around 
here," she says. 


From the bar I look across the room to 
the couch where the working girls sit. A sky¬ 
light gives the room a bright, open feel. 
Michelle has disappeared and now there are 
two other women talking. 

A tall, very pretty black woman wearing 
white-leather hotpants and fringe halter top 
talks animatedly with a strawberry blonde in 
an ultramarine stretch-velvet dress with large 
circles cut out on the sides. The dress has a 
deliberately sleazy feel to it that I like. I decide 
that she's the one I wanna do the wild thing 
with. 

I nervously finish my coffee and head 
towards the couch. When I sit down, her 
demeanor changes — her real personality shuts 
down and a colder, business-like persona takes 
over. She suddenly looks different than the 
woman who was just chatting playfully with 
her coworker. I ask her name and she says 
Amber, carefully avoiding any eye contact. I 
introduce myself and shift uncomfortably 
next to her. "Do you want to go talk in one of 
the rooms?" she asks. Yeah. 

We walk down a dimly-lit hallway into a 
small bedroom with a tape deck, bed and a 
dresser cluttered with condoms and lubri¬ 
cants. A small black-and-white TV next to the 
bed silently plays This Week With David 
Brinkley. Amber asks what I'm interested in. 
"Just a straight lay" I say, remembering the 
proper hooker lingo for intercourse I learned 
from a friend. 

She replies, "That'd be $150. For $50 
extra, you could get half and half, where Td 
start off by sucking you then you could finish 
up by fucking me." 

There were no price lists posted at the 
Ranch, but I heard that a hundred bucks was 
the going rate. "Just a straight lay is cool." 
She looks surprised that her sales pitch hasn't 
work and asks why. "Sorry, $150 is just the 
most I can spend," mentally checking my wal¬ 
let to confirm that 1 can't afford the luxury of 
a little foreplay. 

"Okay," she says. "First I check you out to 
make sure you're clean." She motions towards 
my crotch. "I need to look..." Her voice trails 
off. She's embarrassed to ask me to expose 
myself. 

I unzip my jeans and pull them down. 
With clinical precision, she lifts up my cock to 
look on the underside for sores. Then she care¬ 
fully walks her fingers through my pubic hair 
looking for little moving creatures. Satisfied 
that Tm clean, she asks for the money and 
immediately takes it out of the room. 

When Amber comes back, she turns on a 
Michael Boltonesque power ballad. She tells 
me to undress as she pulls off her party dress 
and lace bra. No panties. I can now see that 1 
made the right decision. She is slender, with 
firm orange-sized breasts and a surprisingly 
attractive body. 

Both naked now, she leads us into the 
bathroom and begins to wash my cock and 
balls as I straddle a bidet. My fears of not 
being able to get it up disappear as she soaps 
me, leaning her naked body against my chest. 

Next, she tells me to kneel on the bed. 
She pulls a Trojan off the night stand, and 
rolls it onto my stiffening cock, stroking it a 
couple of times, smearing on the lube. Then— 




S E 














without another word—she lays back; spread¬ 
ing her legs and her cunt open for me. I like 
the reddish pubic hair around her pussy, and 
the slightly swollen pink lips of her vagina. 
The last of my performance anxiety dissolves 
as I look at her parted legs. I think Til be able 
to do this. 

I slowly slide into her until my pelvis is 
against her thighs. I close my eyes to concen¬ 
trate on the tightness around my cock and 
the warmth of my balls against her ass. When 
1 open my eyes again, 1 notice her tattooed 
breast. A bright red-and-black crest with a 
lover's name across it has been freshly etched 
into her pale skin. I push hard against her 
upright legs and move my body up, down 
and around to feel the territory of her cunt. 
She makes quick guttural noises that make 
me think I might be affecting the way she 
feels, but she could just be playing a part. 

Getting into the rhythm of fucking, I 
suddenly wonder if there is a time limit. She 
didn't mention how long this was supposed 
to last. Tm enjoying the sensation of flesh 
against flesh when another thought occurs to 
me. There is something disconcerting about 
fucking someone and getting very little feed¬ 
back or encouragement. Despite this, I thrust 
harder and harder until I come inside of the 
condom, inside of her. 

As soon as my orgasm ends, Amber pulls 
away from me and opens a box of surgical 
handiwipes on the night stand. Sliding the 
condom off me, she carefully throws it in the 
trash like she's handling radioactive waste. 
Amber washes herself over the bidet and I 
clean myself with a towel before putting my 
clothes back on. As Tm slipping on my shoes 
she asks, "You stayin' in Reno long?" 

"Just on my way out of town. Tm visit¬ 
ing from San Francisco, and this was some¬ 
thing I wanted to check out." 

"And what did you think?" 

"1 think it still feels kinda weird to just 
meet someone and then fuck. " 

"Yeah, that's true. 1 wouldn't be doing 
this if it weren't for my kids. Actually, I still 
would be 'cause Tm trying to get up enough 
money to go back to school." 

"What do you want to study?" 

"Nursing." She pauses after the setup. 
"So, was I good enough for a tip?" 

"Sure," I say, sheepishly reaching into 
my pocket. I pull out a ten-dollar bill and put 
it into the velvet Chivas Regal tip bag on the 
dresser. Amber's performance was less than 
enthusiastic, but I always believe in tipping 
unless the service is atrocious. 

We walk back down the corridor into 
the large sunlit room, where a growing group 
of women wait on the couches. A much larg¬ 
er selection now, I think. I feel a certain light¬ 
ness and relaxation at having broken another 
societal taboo as I thank Amber and step out 
into the early afternoon air. 

4 

Lou Osterberg is - ■ ^ - 

in the silicon sate = ■ ^ - age. 

David HilVs most recent works, which combine acetate 
painting with photography, have been published and 
exhibited throughout the Bay Area. 



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i 



BY NIKE GODWIN 


GENDER SWAPPING ON 


had only been on 

the BBS a few minutes when the pickup 
lines started flashing across the screen in 
realtime. They were remarkably consis¬ 
tent: Was I new here? Did 1 really like 
science fiction? Did I need any help with 
the system? Td never received this kind 
of attention online before. But then, Td 
never logged on as a female before either. 

Tm comfortable in my untrendy demo¬ 
graphic of straight white man, but there's 
always been that sneaking suspicion that per¬ 
haps the grass is greener on the other side of 
the gender fence. So when 1 saw the chance 
to play a woman—no, be a woman — on an 
uninhibited board, 1 jumped at it. 

Before logging on as "Mollyb" (an 
homage to Molly Bloom, another highly sex¬ 
ual female creation of a male writer), I picked 
up a few pointers on how to pass successful¬ 
ly. First, don't describe yourself as having a 
"hot body" or big breasts or killer legs—for 
some users, this gives rise to suspicions that 
you're really a gay man employing deceptive 
"plumage" to get male attention. (This made 
intuitive sense to me; almost every woman 
I've ever known has been remarkably critical 
of her body and her looks in general.) The 
same rule applied to anal sex. There's a com¬ 
mon notion in cyberspace that women won't 
ask for it or initiate it. I was less interested in 
bursting this myth than I was in passing 
without suspicion. 

The second part of my preparation 
involved picking an identity. I wanted my 
self-description to be both consistent and 
sufficiently particular to suggest a real per¬ 
son. I gave Molly the body and looks of a 


recent lover, 

(dark, shoul¬ 
der-length hair, 
small breasts, 
and a bottom 
she thought 
was too big), 
but made her 
my age and gave 
her a similar 
background—a 37- 

year-old, recently divorced, heterosexual 
lawyer who worked in DC for the FCC. 
Finally, in order to be as authentic as possi¬ 
ble, I resolved to try and limit Molly to say¬ 
ing and doing the kinds of things my lovers 
had said and done with me. 

I logged in for the first night, and, just 
as I'd been warned, I was bombarded by 
potential suitors. Most of them communicat¬ 
ed in the form of "pages" (private messages 
sent from users) or "whispers" (private mes¬ 
sages sent in public chat rooms). 

To tell the truth, getting all these paged 
and whispered variants of the "Come here 
often?" routine was rather flattering, even 
though part of me remembered that any 
woman on this system would get the same 
attention. Jesus Christ, I wanted to be wooed. 
There was no sex that first night. Frankly, I 
didn't feel the chemistry was right with any¬ 
one. 

On the second evening, however, my 
luck changed. One user, in his early 30s, had 
chosen a handle that signaled an interest in 
Star Trek. I knew enough to make conversa¬ 
tion with him, and gave him plenty of 
opportunities to flirt. Which he did. When 


he suggested giving me a virtual massage, I 
decided we should do it in a public space— 
the "Hot Chat" room. 

Worf: My hands move in opposite direc¬ 
tions, fingers spread, and make a straight firm 
line from neck to tail, my thumbs on your tail- 
bone, my hands, still oiled, cupping your soft 
lovely ass. 

Mollyb flexes the muscles of her ass, invol¬ 
untarily, in response. 

Mollyb: I like that, Worf A lot! 

Before we had gotten far, our audience 
began to show up: 

Worf (whispered): We seem to be drawing 
a crowd... now Marvin wants in. 

Mollyb (whispered): Let's ignore them and 
let them watch. 

The audience was well behaved, even as 
our massage became sexier. A few onlookers 
tried to horn in but we studiously paid atten¬ 
tion only to each other. The object was less 
to emulate real sex than it was to say the 
kinds of things that your partner would find 
arousing: 

Mollyb: Oooh, I like the weight of 
your balls in my hand. They feel so heavy. 

Worf: I inch closer to you, and you 
start to use my cock like a dildo, pressing 



Jeff Gompertz 













the head up and down 
the length of your pussy, 
bumping your clit. 

Mollyb: God, I am so 
wet 

BohX (whispered): You 
lovely little slut! 

And at the moment of cli¬ 
max, the audience shared in it: 

Mollyb: I want your sweet 
come inside me NOW, 

Worf: And I can no longer 
hold back...I push, again and 
again! I stiffen and arch...and 
freeze into position as I fill you up 
with wave upon wave of my come! 

MrArdor is clapping wildly! 

Mollyb: I'm spasming so 
HARD. 

MsBehavior is shaking hands 
with Worf. 

Much of the public 
applause was directed at my 
partner—didn't they realize 
how much I'd helped? 

1 had never really had 
confronted 


the common 
perception that lovemaking 
is something that men do and 
women appreciate. I'd been a 
willing and equal partner in 
this tryst, but now everyone 
was crediting my male partner 
and ignoring me. I'd known 
intellectually, of course, that 
women are as responsible for 
their orgasms as men are, but if 
I'd played the man's role in this 
pocket porn drama, would 1 be 
credulously basking in the audi¬ 
ence's praise now? 

The experience had been 
oddly rewarding—not because 1 
was physically aroused (1 was¬ 
n't, except in a vague sort of 
way) but because 1 loved having 
put on a good show. The thrill 
was not in the sex; it was in the 
theatrics. It made me think— 
how much of my gratification 
during real sex is due to perfor¬ 
mance? A partner, after all, can 
be a very demanding audience. 
Being a different gender 
allowed me to see the role-play¬ 
ing aspects of lovemaking I've 
been doing all along. 

Nothing about the experi¬ 
ence had rocked me to the core 
of my sexual identity, but 1 did 
discover that there were things 
to enjoy about being a woman 
online. 1 was the pursued rather 
than the pursuer, and 1 could 
take my pick of a legion of 
eager lovers. 1 was also freer to 


choose between being strong or 
submissive—parts that would 
take me more self-conscious 
effort to play as a man, 1 could 
easily slip into as a woman. 
And damn it, 1 could be entirely 
credible if 1 chose to come a lot 
during a single lovemaking ses¬ 
sion! 1 came away from the 
transgender experience with 
the haunting sense that women 
have it better. 

Still, even the best, most 
gratifying e-sex doesn't resolve 
the tricky emotional issues that 
can arise. The next night Worf 
and 1 performed again, this 
time in the "Anything Goes" 
chat room, but it was less satis¬ 
fying. The problem was, 1 actu¬ 
ally found myself liking the 
guy, and dreading the disap¬ 
pointment he was likely to feel 
when he discovered my ruse. 
During our virtual lovemaking. 
I'd felt the impulse to offer 
endearments, compliments. 1 
wanted to please him, but felt a 
bit uncomfortable when he 
later told me how 
fulfilling the 
experience had been. 
(Hadn't he sensed my increased 
emotional distance this time? 
Men!) 

As removed as the experi¬ 
ence of making love online 
may seem to those who don't 
practice it, it's still sex, still inti¬ 
macy. There were things about 
Worf's sexuality that 1 now 
knew, and likewise some things 
about me that he understood. 
Just before logging on for the 
first time, 1 had broken up with 
a lover, and was feeling needy. 
Now Worf and 1 had been sexu¬ 
ally close, and it was hard not 
to be cheered to log in and see 
him. An infatuation? Not real¬ 
ly, but there were warm feel¬ 
ings, and that old desire for a 
feeling of connection. 

Which is why, even 
though 1 don't plan to play a 
woman again anytime soon, 1 
was gratified in my own way. 
The women online had con¬ 
gratulated me for finding such 
a good man to have public sex 
with. Or, at least, 1 think they 
were women. And 1 think he 
was a man. 

Mike Godwin's articles about social 
and legal issues on the electronic 
frontier have appeared in the 
Whole Earth Review, The Quill, 
Index on Censorship, 
Internet World, and Wired. 

JeffGompertz spends his spare time in 
plastic bubbles confusing the future wth 
the past at a place called F.P. U. in NYC. 






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The Beverly Hills Social Club 

is the newest haven for swingers living in the ^o^d's most 
famous zip code. In typical Hollywood fashion, like-ftt|^§d 
libertines schmooze and negotiate their mergers at elegant 
parties and black-tie dances. Sex takes place off-premili%j|he 
Grand Ballroom of the Hyatt is no place for an orgy, no 

tpr hnw Thp hriiihanrl cinrl wifp tp;im whn run fhp ^ 


ter how classy. The husband and wife team who run the 
enterprise say keeping their guests in line is no problem; 
heck, the perfectly fabulous types who make up their 
clientele barely engage in vices like drinking or smok¬ 
ing at their soirees;-.^Ptomoters won't name any 
names, but do admit that a lot of attendees are 
''people who work in the industry." That's 
the> entertainment industry, in case 
you were wondering. 



Ullll 

“oS'va?,'"* be] 

S^Ui'ngg P tiefore." 

comes bo/ted ‘device 
astic briefcasp 

for thZ , ’ the 

riy 


The Horny Hormone 

Oysters, asparagus, vitamin E, 
and ginseng have all long been 
regarded for their mythic aphro- 
disiacal qualities, but recent 
research by the FDA concludes 
there's no truth to the notions that 
any of them will affect your id. One 
of the few proven boosts to the 
libido, however, is already in your 
own system—testosterone. In a study 
done on healthy men who began regular 
exercise programs, subjects elevated their 
levels of the male hormone, and reported 
greater desire and higher sexual stamina after 
just a few months. Lest anyone take these findings 
as evidence that men have higher sex drives, remem¬ 
ber that increasing physical activity also raises testos¬ 
terone levels in women. 


look it up 

in your funk & wdgnall's 

Everybody knows that the phrase rock and roll originated as a 
double metaphor for doing the nasty, but that's only one example 
of the verbal connection between music and sex. Here's a few more 
definitions, courtesy of the Dictionary of Sexual Slang: 

Blow some tunes: perform cunnilingus 
Jam, Jive, Play the Horn: copulate 

Groove: copulate, originally a pun on the groove of the vagina 

Jazz: copulate, may have derived from gism 

Funk: smell that comes from lovemaking 

Mouth Music: oral sex 

Playing the piano: gay analingus 


n the UK, men dressing 

in women's clothing has been a time-honored tram- 
tion from Shakespeare through Monty Python. But 
Britons apparently prefer their cross-dressing to 
remain a domestic industry. Parliament, spurred by 
reports of a planned satellite channel just for trans- 
I vestites, recently issued a tough warning to interna¬ 
tional broadcasters to refrain from transmitting "porno¬ 
graphic" television into Britain. Minister Peter Brook said 
Britain's Independent Television Commission would in 
future have to warn the government of "any foreign tele¬ 
vision service they consider goes beyond the limits of 
what is acceptable." 














hen artists JoAnn Gillerman and 
Rob Terry set out to create a patch- 
work of public opinion on erotica in 
the techno age, they figured the best 
way to get folks to open up was with 
a little seduction. The result was 
EROS INterACTive, an electronic 
kiosk that solicits candid commen¬ 
tary through provocatively pictured help 
screens that whisper encouragements like 
"Come play with me" and "Touch me here." 
Created on the Silicon Graphics Indy, EROS 
coaxes users to videotape their own musings 
about eroticism and interactivity, as well as 
peek at messages left by other participants. 
Its user-flirty approach works; when EROS 
was shown at the New Sensation Exhibition 
in San Francisco last fall, over 250 people 
sounded off in just three days. "We thought 
this seemed like a good way to have a 
humanish interface," says Gillerman. 
Maybe it's easier telling your 
thoughts to a computer if it 
happens to be a smooth 
talker. 





11 aces aren't all that 

I I are being lifted in Beverly Hills these 
I days. Board-certified gynecologist David 
I Matlock, MD, specializes in laser vaginal 
I reconstruction—a new form of plastic 
I surgery that's far more likely to improve 
I your sex life than a tummy tuck and a 
:ew set of tits. 

Stretching may be a natural result of fac- 

- rs like time and childbirth, but its unpleas- 

by-product is lowered sexual satisfac- 
n—for both sexes. In patient consultations, 
.jitlock talks with women about their desired 
gree of tightness, taking into consideration 
-c.T partners' penis size. 

The operation, which Matlock has per¬ 
med for about 1,000 women already, is 
ne under general anesthesia on an outpa- 

- basis. The cost ranges from $1,800 to 
0 and can take from 30 to 90 minutes. 

.c iiard part is waiting to try out the results; 
^ery is followed by six weeks of abstinent 
■ - -very. Matlock claims he's one of the few 
Jiors doing this traditional surgery with 
rs—and more significantly, for the pur- 
of sexual gratification. 

—Jayrnes Trief 



S E 























D O U B L E 



INDEMNITY 


THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SEXUAL INNUENDO 


BY CASEY MCCABE 


I 



ITobody 

l| who saw it 
H will ever for- 
V get it. The 
1 old Tonight 
I Show with 
* ■ Carson. For 

some unknown 
reason his guest 
is Mrs. Arnold 
Palmer. Johnny 
askS; innocently 
enough, "'Do you 
do anything spe¬ 
cial to help your husband?" "Well, before 
every tournament," Mrs. Palmer replies, 
equally innocent, "I kiss his balls for luck." A 
beat, then Carson: "Well, I bet that really 
makes his putter stand up." For one brief 
moment, America stands still. Then erupts 
with shocked, tumultuous laughter. 

Of course nobody actually saw the show. 
But before you could say "urban myth" the 
episode had become playground and water¬ 


cooler history. Why? In those giddy days 
before Howard Stern, NYPD Blue and all-nude 
public access talk shows, there was only one 
outlet for America's collective sexual repres¬ 
sion — the double-entendre. 

Armed with little more than a raised eye¬ 
brow, a leer and words like melon, noodle, 
bottom, clap, rubber, diddle and whoopee, 
comedians plied our puritanical underbelly 
with winks and nudges. It was, as they say, a 
simpler time. A time when the word "putter" 


had legitimate shock 
value, and sexual ten¬ 
sion could be exploit¬ 
ed at the drop of a 
hatchet. That, of 
course, was a more 
well-documented 
Tonight Show episode. 

At Carson's 
behest, Daniel Boone 
star Ed Ames threw 
his tomahawk at a 
wooden dummy, 
almost magically 
landing it in the crotch to create an unmis¬ 
takably aroused appendage. The real 
epiphany wasn't the digestive pause of mil¬ 
lions of TV viewers, nor the cathartic burst of 
laughter. It was Carson recognizing the purity 
of the moment and restraining Ames from 
retrieving the tomahawk. It was 
an opportunity for sex-shy 
America to milk the glass teat. 

Ark Linkletter knew the 
secret, too. The most popular seg- 


li 


FUTURE SEX 


Mini} He ft 





















ment on his after- 
noon TV show 
■if House Party was 

an interview with 
" grade-schoolers 
called '^Kids Say the Darndest 
Things"—especially true when 
Linkletter was prodding them 
for embarrassing anecdotes 
about Daddy's secretary or the 
milkman hanging around all 
morning. Innuendo from an 
angel-faced child was the only 
way to broach the subject of sex 
on an afternoon talk show. 
Imagine that. Linkletter would 
later recall that the biggest 
laugh the show ever produced 
came when an earnest tyke, 
talking about the octopus, mis¬ 
takenly used the word "testicle" 
for "tentacle." It took a full 
minute to quiet the undulating 
waves of hilarity from the stu¬ 
dio audience of housewives. 

Of course if Linkletter had 
the balls to put Lenny Bruce on 
his show, the same housewives 
would have been outraged 
should Lenny have uttered "tes¬ 
ticle." But they might allow a 
blushing guffaw for Buddy 
Hackett joking about a man 
suddenly singing soprano. Now 
that was funny. Perhaps more 
than anyone, Bruce understood 
America's sexual hypocrisy. But 
all that did was land him in 
court, while guys like Hackett 
got gigs recycling ancient 
farmer's daughter jokes. 

It finally took Laugh-In's 
marriage of vaudeville to the 
sexual revolution for innuendo 
to mature. By the time the 
afternoon game show Match 
Game was reintroduced in the 
early 70s, Gene Rayburn was 
posing such questions as, "Susie 
the cheerleader wanted Johnny 
the quarterback to pay less 
attention to football, and more 
attention to her . . . BLANK." 
The contestant would meekly 
say "pom-poms," Charles 
Nelson Riley would counter 
with "bazoombas," the audi¬ 
ence would howl, a match 
would be made and the contes¬ 
tant would win something from 
the famous Spiegel catalog. 
More importantly, America was 
coming to terms with its sexual¬ 
ity. By the time Match Game 
went off the air it was coura¬ 
geously accepting the word 
boobs." 

The sexual revolution, 
which would shelve the careers 
of once-bawdy Catskills come¬ 
dians, made sex a matter of 
pride rather than something to 
be teased or hidden. Soon 
Pryor, Carlin, even Mary Tyler 


Moore herself were saying the 
Words That Couldn't Be Said. 
Before long the double-enten¬ 
dre had been driven into the 
streets, where savvy bumper- 
sticker entrepreneurs were mak¬ 
ing them into personalized 
statements like "Scuba Divers 
Do It Deeper," "Waitresses Do 
It Standing Up," "Truck Drivers 
Can Go All Night" and "Particle 
Physicists Collide with Greater 
Force and Frequency." 

Today, Howard Stern is 
telling millions of Americans 
that he jacked off into an old 
leather glove on the way too 
work. Sure, we've all done it. 
We lust didn't used to talk 
about it. In other groundbreak¬ 
ing efforts, both Seinfeld and 
Roseanne so successfully han¬ 
dled the subject of masturba¬ 
tion that Aaron Spelling is 
reportedly developing an entire 
new series about disgruntled 
young singles who prefer to 
play with themselves, called 
Romy Palms. 

This means that either our 
country has grown up in 
regards to sex, or that we're 
frantically searching the bot¬ 
tom of the barrel for new 
taboos to exploit. While open 
sexual dialogue is no doubt a 
healthy thing, so is the ability 
to laugh about it. Where school 
children once tittered at the 
mention of a sperm whale (or 
even the word "tittered"), they 
now take home free condoms, 
having been taught that sex can 
equal death. 

But even in the grim, over¬ 
cultivated world of sex jokes, a 
flower can bloom. The most 
recent story making the rounds 
of water coolers involves an 
episode of Love Connection (or 
Studs or years earlier The 
Newlywed Game) that people are 
swearing a friend saw. The con¬ 
testant, having been asked "the 
most unusual place he ever 
made love," deadpanned, "That 
would be up the butt. Chuck." 

Note to Buddy Hackett: 
America is finally ready for a 
really clever fist-fucking joke. 

4 

Casey McCabe writes about American 
pop culture in his regular column for 
The Nose magazine and other national 

publications. He frequently enjoys 
'^polishing his apple ," if you 
know what we mean. 

Mimi Heft, a San Francisco designer 
and illustrator, wishes she was heiress 
to the trash-bag fortune, but has settled 
for just the trash. 



Electro Butt Plug 

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P.E.S. Electro Stimulation Box 

Can be used with up to 4 P.E.S. attachments. 
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Vaginal Plug 

When it comes to the vaginal this one is the 
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allows access to the clitoris for manual stimu¬ 
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Cock-Head Stimulator (Sparkler) 

A short length of magically conductive rub¬ 
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Phyllis Christopher 

Kiva, an ambitious 22 year old, produces her own line of XXX rated videos. See the review for Completely Kivo on page 62. 
Stacy, a natural flirt, can often be found at the center of a crowd at many of the hot spots in San Francisco. 

Cine is an exhibitionisf and loves sex on the beach. 

Models represented by Top Flight Entertainment 

Hair. John Baretta 
Makeup: Neda 
Clothing; Becky Wilson 


Photography: 

Models: 










MUSIC IS A FORCE THAT 
SHAPES THE WORLD while shining 

the light back in our eyes. The words and rhythms 
of the past forty years fueled revolution, birthed 
language, spawned attitude (and the clothes to go 
with it). Music gets under our skin like a sonic 
tattoo; its rebel yells, wet grooves and ethereal 
samples make us feel. 

Songs about sex, of course, in all their 
feel-good, feeling-stood-up glory, are always at the 
top of the charts. To explain exactly haw music 
puts its stamp on our sexuality and why it makes us 
want to take our clothes off, however, isn't easy. 


future Sex talked to writers. 


singers, producers and 


musicians, and asked 


them for their views on 


life's erotic me^yres. 

, Triis is 
, whdt they 
had to say: 



















Alex Solcu 




Too Short: 

When I was 
about 15, I 
was singing 
these songs 
about life in 
the party or 
whatever, and I 
had this one line 
that said I had 16 


Why Do You 
Sms; or 
Write* 
About 
Sex? 


Debbie Harry: 

Well, what else is there? 


Alex Paterson (the Orb): 

I would say [my music is] more fem¬ 
inine, really. It's more to the emo¬ 
tions. Ah, maybe I wish I was a 
girl. 


hoes suckin' 10 toes. 

There was a whole rap to 
go with it, but that was the 
line. And that one line made every¬ 
body in the room laugh. And you 
know. I've always been an atten¬ 
tion-seeker. 

Baby Cirl (Hoez With Attitude): 

We think and we rap and write 
about sex because that is the 
way of life, it's what happen¬ 
ing. [Sex] is necessary for life 
and we love it! We love singin' 
about it, we love doin' it. 

Dead Lee (Sheep on Drucs): 

Sex is a drug and we sing 
about drugs. You can get 
addicted to it. 

Cristina (Boss Hog): 

I do not sing specifically about 
sex but rather of desire and 
desperation. It is the most grat¬ 
ifying means I have found for 
voicing my grievances. It's 
either that or gouge my eyes out. 

Jim Ellison 
(Material Issue): 

I don't. My songs gener¬ 
ally stop at foreplay. 

Lux Interior 
(The Cramps): 

Any "artist type" 
should be commu¬ 
nicating about 
what interests 
them most, and 
those that say 
there's some¬ 
thing more 
important than 
sex are either 
inconceivably 
dull or liars. 

Mojo Nixon: 

I grew up with a 
bunch of uptight 
hypocritical pmdes 
who thought sex, 
nudity and mastur¬ 
bation were nasty, 
blue, evil, wrong. 
Fuckin' is good, nekkid 
is good. Killing is BAD. I 
jack off in the face of the 
Junior Women's League with 
a purple-veined passion rod! 


Whdt's 
Your Idea 
of Safe 
Sex? 


Debbie Harry: 

Voyeurism. 

Alex Paterson (the Orb): 

I suppose it's latex, isn't it? My idea, at 
the moment, would be just making sure 
you've got a condom in your pocket. 

Michael Franti: 

Having a healthy imagination. 

Jim Ellison (Material Issue): 

Phone sex. 

Cristina (Boss Hog): 

I suspect you would prefer something clever 
and witty like, any sex other than that with a 
rabid dog, but the truth is I don't believe 
in risking your life for a single sexual 
encounter. No 
exchange of bodily 
fluids. 

Co-Di 

(Hoez With 
Attitude): 

Getting the 
right partner 
and not hitting 
your head on 
the head- 
board. 

Tim Skold 
(Shotgun 
Messiah): 

That's an oxy¬ 
moron, "safe sex." 

'Cause sex isn't sup¬ 
posed to be safe. 

Well, I'm monoga¬ 
mous, and I have a 
girlfriend—a good 
combination. 

Too Short: 

No sex. 

Steve Albini: 

I remember reading a list 
of things never to do 
with your dick. One of 
them was using it to see 
if that electric pencil 
sharpener is plugged in. 


^ As THE BLONDE HALF OF SWEDISH INDIE 

rock/techno duo Shotgun Messiah, Tim 
Skold wrote "Sex," off their third album 
Violent New Breed, (Relativity) where he 

AMUSINGLY CROONS, "I'M COMIN' INSIDE/IT'S 
so WE CAN BOND FOREVER...." 


Co-Di (Hoez With Attitude): 

I think it's a sexual awakening. 
People are awakening to the 
dangers of sex, therefore they're 
f , taking new alternatives to protect 
f j themselves. So in that sense, 
yeah, I do think it's a revolution. 


re we 


Are 

in trie,, 

^ middle 
of atiotner, 
, sexual 
revolution? 


Steve Albini: 

If I get this right, the first sexual revolution 
was the one where conventional definitions of 
sexual boundaries went by the wayside and 
opened the door to all the options, other than 
one-on-one heterosexual sex 


in prescribed 


*<<The latest EP from 
Hoex With Attitude 
(H.W.A.) Az Much 
Ass Azz U Want 
(Ruthless) sends the 

MESSAGE THAT WOMEN 
ARE NO LONGER WILL¬ 
ING TO ACCEPT THE 


David Roth 













Rock and roll Is all about 


attitudes. And if that's the case, then you only 
have one sexual revolution because then any¬ 
thing after that is fair game. What would 
another revolution be? Going back to 
Puritanism? 

Lux Ivnuuoii (The Cramps): 

Judging by the ugly baggy fashions of today, 
I'd say most folks are on their way back to the 
Dark Ages. 

Mojo Nixon: 

There are always horny people on the sexual 
frontier. The revolution is just the media run- 
nin' with it for six weeks. The fornication 
army is always there, hidin' in the shadows. 

Michael Franti: 

• ' --r person in America, 

—tally know thirty 
ole who have 
of AIDS, and 
; puts a differ- 
light on sexu- 
^ for my gen- 
■—i. People 
have to 
; differ- 
/ about 
they're 
eping 
A, the 
! of sex 
'T have, 
j pro- 
c t i n g 
Lem- 
i V e s . 


And that makes people think twice before 
jumping in bed with anybody. 

Whdt music 
puts you 

in the mood? 


Lux Inurior (The Cramps): 

Weird bachelor-pad mood music of the 50s, 
'cause it was scientifically engineered for this 
purpose. Like Esquivel or Leo Diamond. 

Debbie Harry: 

All music. It all gets me wet. 

Mofo Nixon: 

A1 Green, John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, 
Marvin Gaye. Fuckin'-in-the-dirt-like the-ani- 
mals-we-are music. 

Alex Paterson (the Orb): 

Reggae. 

Crishna (Boss Hoc): 

Sometimes 50s strip music like Las Vegas 
Grind or the anguished cry of Mavis Staples 
singing "I'm Cornin' Home" will make me 
sweat. But generally it's people, not music, 
that put me in the mood. 

Tim Skold (Shotgun Messiah): 

180+ bpm rave stuff because in general, those 
songs go on for a good eight minutes. 

Too Short: 

Love songs from the 70s. What I grew up on— 
Isley Brothers, Whispers, Aretha Franklin, Earth 
Wind and Fire love songs, all that stuff. 


Baby Girl (Hoez With AmruDE): 

That would explode the mood! That would 
just make the mood that much better. 'Cause 
then you can be like, "Muthafucka, don't you 
hear what I'm sayin?" I don't have to say any¬ 
thing, the record can say the rest. 

King Duncan (Sheep on Drugs): 

I would feel proud, raunchy and sexy.. .extra sexy. 

Did you have a 
particular 
experience 
that 
changed 
your 
sexual 


Tm Skold 
(Shotgun Messiah): 

Um... puberty? 


TooShorh 

Falling in love. My out¬ 
look before that was, get 
some pussy from whoever 
you feel like fucking, and 
that's just what it was. But 
then when I fell in love, I 
found out that sex got 
better with someone ■-f"! 

that you loved. You got IJLALlwUlx. 
to do it over and over 
and over again, and somebody knows you, 
and you don't have to ask for things, you just 
automatically get it—that's the best thing you 
could ever have. A person who knows you. 

King Duncan (Sikep on Drugs): | 

All sexual experience has changed my out- ^ 
look somewhat. I'll try anything once, and if 
its nice I'll do it twice. Sex has been a process 
of getting comfortable with myself. Really 
good sex was when I wasn't afraid. Being in 
love makes a difference. 

CiUSTiNA (Boss Hog): 

Fucking Jon Spencer changed my life. 


Y IS 
, AND 
I WILL BE, 


How would you 

feel if you heard one of 
your own songs during an 
amorous encounter? 


Mojo Nixon: 

The first time I was with a girl who 
wanted to fuck and come. I didn't say 
no or give a reluctant, "Now we must 
get married," but "Yes! Let's go to a 
motel and watch things swell." Yahoo! 


Debbk Harry^ Im Eluson, Grhtina, Lux 
Interkh^ Mo|o Nixon, Alex Paterson: 

Distracted. 


Michael Franti: 

Every time I have sex. I try not to be totally 
stupid. I try to learn something every time. 


breaking rules. In 
our case, David Yow, lead singer of punk 
foursome The Jesus Lizard, and producer 
Steve AlbinI decided to answer their own 
questions about sex. 

Da¥R> YoWt Steve has another man ever had 
occasion to say to you, ' Whoa Steve, god¬ 
damn, your dick stinks!"? 

Steve Albini: No, but I do remember a couple 
of years ago, David, that you said to me, 
"Wow, your balls are really bright red." 


DY: Did I? 

$A: Yeah. I was wearing these nearly see- 
through trousers and my bag was hanging out 
at breakfast one morning—I was The Jesus 
Lizard's sound man on a road trip—and you 
made some mention of the fact that my testi¬ 
cles were bright red. I think you said some¬ 
thing like, "What's going on with your balls?" 
This was at Denny's, very early in the morning. 

DY: And then I said, "But they taste delicious!" 
OK, have you ever gone up to a girl you didn't 
know and asked her "Excuse me. Is your 
Debbie hairy?" 

SA: No. 


A Best known as cuitarist/vocalist for landmark early-80s Rust Belt rock band Bic Black, 
Steve Albini also recorded the most recent albums by Nirvana and P.J. Harvey. His new 
BANK, Shellac, just released two singles on Chicago's Touch and Go label. 


[2' 
















H(hK\ Si hcnik 






SA: No, I'm just actively attracted to 
women with very coarse features. Big 
gnarly eyebrows, big noses, glasses. 


DY: Beards? 


SA: No. A huge mouth is an enor¬ 
mous turn-on. With a lot of teeth in 
it. I'm sort of into the thick- 
spectacled-jewish-math-major look. 
Very geeky, kind of a sinus problem. 
You know what I'm talking about? 


SA: It's hard to explain, 


DY: Alright, next question. What's 
the most potentially dangerous 
place you've had sex? I've enjoyed it 
in the back of a pick-up truck during 
rush hour. 

SA: That reminds me, my girlfriend 
and I once did it in a van on the way 
to a drive-in. jon Spencer and his wife 
Cristina were in the van at the time. 

DY: Did they know you were doing it? 

SA: Probably. Um, have you ever 
had great sex with an ugly woman 
or terrible sex with a beautiful 
woman? 


A There is nothing like a jEsus Lizard show, except maybe witnessing an accident on the highway. 
Gut-bucket vocalist David Yow is as unpredictable as an early Iggy Pop. Their recent EP Lash is a 
MIX OF conscious FRENZY AND CHAOTIC SEXUALITY. 


DY: Yeah, both. 


SA: Actually, I kinda like ugly 
women. Homely women, beastly 
women, hatchet-faced women, kind 
of crude horse-like women do turn 
my crank. 


SA: 1 find them much more interest¬ 
ing to look at. 


DY: Do you feel charitable when 
you...? 


Alex Paterson (the Oral): 

Losing my virginity. That's an English 
answer, I think. 


Have you ever 
made or read 
a statement about 
sex that's come 
back to haunt you? 


you say that!" Well, sometimes my mouth 
just goes, and my brain gauges later. 

Tim Skold (SHonrciM KIessiah): 

I remember Boy George talking about Glam. 
That it was okay to look like a girl because 
you were only kidding, and everybody knew 
you were only kidding. The real deal was 
harder to swallow. 1 thought that was an 
interesting observation. 

Alex Pahrson (the Ors): 

1 find Madonna quite haunting. It's not what 
she says, it's just the way she is, really. 

Do you hope 
your work erotically 
inspires people/ 

Too Short: 

I don't hope it has, but I know that there are 
people out there who like that dirty shit, you 
know? I mean. I've come across women 
who've said that they wanted to have sex 
with me. From the way I rap, they think I 
would do it good. It doesn't really turn me 
on, listening to Too Short. But I could under¬ 
stand if somebody always sang about how 
they fucked, it would be like, then show me 
how you fuck. 


tional stu 
way. When I'm 
on stage, I'm 
afraid. I feel 
up there and 
audience is h 
ing me feel that 

Alex Paterson 
(the Orb)* 

Yes. Pe 
write and 
they 
up 

their ow 
kind of B1 
Room, which 
an Orb trac 
Those sort 
things are 
ly nice 
hear. We 
into 

bits of pe 
pie's lives a 
opposed to [them] 
just sitting at home 
and listening to music, it 
actually gets them creatively 
involved. And I suppose [the 
music] is nice to go to bed 
with, so... 


A Singer Lux Interior 
AND HIS band, The Cramps, 
MERGE ROCKABILLY SOUND 
WITH DRIVE-IN TRASH MOVIE 
IMAGERY AND A TASTE FOR 
B/D SEXUALITY. 


Cmstina (Boss Hoc): 

I wouldn't go so far as to say hope or inspired. 
It would be nice if it affected people in any 
way, I suppose. Generally though, I don't 
spend time wondering how other people 
respond to my work, although there are a few 
specific individuals I hope agonize over my 
naked image. 

Debbihe Harry: 

Oh God yes! Especially when your music is 
played in clubs you hope that it's going to 
make someone somewhere hop in the back 
seat of their car and do it. 


Lux iNfimR (The Cramm^: 

Yes. I hope it gives them ideas about flesh 
and its various coverings like zippers and 
straps. 


Debbie Harry: 

Somewhere along the line I think I said, "Sex 
is the greatest marketing tool." Ugh. 


Too Short: 

Well, I was always scared of this one line I 
had about Nancy Reagan sucking my dick. 
And you know, it was not intended to disre¬ 
spect the President of the United States, but I 
always was like, maybe 
you shouldn't have 
said that. But it went 
out, and it was one of 
the most popular lines 
of my live perfor¬ 
mance. 


Alex Paterson is the brain of 
THE Orb. Taking its name from 

THE ECSTASY-INDUCING BALL IN 

Woody Allen's Sleeper, the Orb 

GOES BEYOND THE GENRE OF AMBI¬ 
ENT HOUSE MUSIC AND INTO THE 
BLISS OF DEEP SPACE. If 


Mo|o Nixon: 

I once told my 
wife she was so 
fine "I'd suck her 
daddy's dick!" It 
turned out to be 
much bigger than 
I expected. 


Kinc Duncan 
(Sheer on Drucs): 

I did an interview 
with [New Musical 
Express] and I was 
just chatting away with the guy and I said, 
"Sometimes I like to smoke crack, and some¬ 
times I like to fuck my girlfriend in the ass. 
Sometimes I like to have a cup of tea with my 
mum. I don't know if ordinary Joe does these 
things, but I'm sure he probably does." They 
made it this huge headline. My girlfriend was 
really angry with me. She said "How could 


Dead Lee (Sheer on Drucs): 


We got one fan let¬ 
ter from a girl that 
was written on the 
back of one of 
those prostitutes' 
calling cards [you 
find in] London 
phone books. She 
said it was like los¬ 
ing her virginity, 
being at our gig. 


Kmc Duncan (Sheer 
ON Drucs): 

I hope it makes 

A King Duncan AND Dead Lee people feel Sexy 
ARE Sheep on Drugs, the Indus- about themselves for 

TRIAL DANCE BAND RESPONSIBLE right reaSOUS 

FOR Grace Jone's latest single, ^® , 

"Sex Drive." Not in the conven¬ 


















T With eight albums under 
HIS BELT, Too Short holds 
ONE OF THE MOST SUCCESSFUL 
TRACK RECORDS IN RAP MUSIC. 
His LATEST album, CetIn 
Where You Fit In (Jive), is 

ANOTHER CHAPTER IN THE 
ONGOING SAGA OF SHORTY 

THE Pimp. 


Baby Cirl 

(Hoez With Attitude) : 

I think so because we have 
a lot of females and males 
coming up to us and saying 
how much they love the 
songs about oral sex and 
other sexual things. The 
women say, 'This is what I 
want you to do for me/' 
and the guys say, "Hey, 
this is what I want 
to do for you." 


erbfi(2^mat 
inspires 

yolji • ^ 


couldn't give you names of actresses or films. 
I don't ever get erotically excited reading 
dirty books. Sex scenes in novels and stuff 
don't make myself to stiffen. 

David Yow (The Jesus Lizard): 

I remember being a little kid laying on my 
stomach watching TV, watching Bewitched. 
And I didn't know exactly what it was, but 
there was a sort of throbbing, tickling sensa¬ 
tion going on down there in my "front bot¬ 
tom" as my mother called it at the time. And 
I remember many times afterwards trying to 
get that weird throb back again by laying on 
the floor and watching Bewitched, 
wishing it would happen again— 
and it did. 

Steve Aebini: 

Oh yeah, Elizabeth Mont¬ 
gomery was a real bell-ringer. 


Steve Aibini: 

That inspires me? 
Sometimes if I 
watch pornogra¬ 
phy it'll give me a 
hard-on, if it's a 
really attractive 
woman who is obvi¬ 
ously very involved in 
the moment, as it were. I 


Baby Gire (Hoez With Attitude): 

When you have it in you already—I mean, 
books are cool—^but all of it, it's a beautiful 
thing when it's in you already and it just 
comes out with that certain individual. 


Lux Interior (The Cramps): 

60s exploitation movies such as Please Don't 
Touch Me or Nest Of The Cuckoo Bird, 50s 3D 
pin-up photography and most of Marcel 
Duchamp's stuff. 

King Duncan (Sheep on Drugs): 

If I want to have a quick wank I might look at 


► Mojo Nixon recently 

SPAWNED A NEW COUNTRY 
RECORD TITLED PRAIRIE HOME 

Invasion, featuring Jello 
Biafra. His big hit was "Elvis is 
Everywhere," and like The 
King himself. Mop's always 

UP FOR A hunk of BURNIN' LOVE. 


some porn. But gener¬ 
ally, I don't really like 
porn. Sex is not a 
slut with her 
legs splayed 
and a dildo 
in her ass to 
me. Sex is a lot 
of other things. 

Erotic is more an 
emotion I feel with 
people. 

Debbie Harry; 

Sculpture. Sculpture is incredibly erotic, espe¬ 
cially Japanese sculpture. And films, they 
don't necessarily have to be about sex to 
arouse me. I've always loved Fellini. And Tm 
a big Pasolini fan. 

Cristina (Boss Hog): 

Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson. 
And I liked the films The Piano and Tokyo 
Decadence. 

Too Short: 

In order to exercise my dirty mind, I have to 
have some type of dirty thoughts at various 
times of the day. Tm one of those guys that 
goes into the store and flips the pages on 
those dirty shelves, you know? I'll admit -G 


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Marvin Cave: 

"I'm a dominant 
sexual partner 
usually...Tm not 
a whore either. 
I'm promiscuous 
yes, but a very 
selective one." 
Sharon Davis, / 
Heard It Through 
The Grapevine, 
Mainstream 
Publishing 
Company 1991. 


Lester Bancs: "Think ni rape my 
wank-fantasy cunt dog-style 
tonight." Lester Bangs, Psychotic 
Reactions and Carburator Dung, 
Vintage Books 1987. 

Buffy Sainte-Marie: 

"Music has been 
my playmate, my 
lover and my crying 
towel. It gets me off 
like nothing else." 

Ms., March 1975. 

Kurt Cobain: "I'm 
definitely gay in 
spirit, and I proba¬ 
bly could be 
bisexual...If I would¬ 
n't have found 
Courtney, I proba¬ 
bly would have carried on with a 
bisexual life-style." The Advocate, 
Februaryl 993. 

Diamanda Galas: "...If sex is 
merely gentle and peaceful. I'm 
not even interested." Angry 
Women, Re/Search Press 1991. 


Julio Iclesias: "I 

love women. I love deep 
women...But it Is not a question 
of passing through women like 
one passes through showers in the 
morning...! need the warmth of a 
woman, but I also need the con¬ 
frontation. I need the deepness of 
the brains." Interview, june 1992. 

Michael Jackson: "I'm a gentle¬ 
man." During a television inter¬ 
view, In response to Oprah 
Winfrey's question, "Are you a vir¬ 
gin?" ABC Special, February 1993. 

Joan Jett (on the Runaways' 
experience with interviews): "The 
first question would be, 'I heard 
you girls are all sluts, right?'" 
Gillian G. Gaar, She's A Rebel, Seal 
Press 1992. 

jANis Joplin: "My music ain't sup¬ 
posed to make you want to riot. 


My music's supposed to make you 
want to fuck." Gillian G. Gaar, 
She's A Rebel, Seal Press 1992. 

Lydia Lunch:". ..dick-licking— 
something everyone has done ... 
show me the woman who hasn't 
and I'll show you a 
woman who doesn't 
know what she's 
missing." BravEar, 
1982 

Madonna: "I like my 
pussy...Sometimes I 
stick my finger in my 
pussy and wiggle it 
around the dark wet¬ 
ness and feel what a 
cock or a tongue 
must feel when I'm 
sitting on it. 1 pull my 
finger out and 1 
always taste it and 
smell it...! love my 
pussy, it Is the complete summa¬ 
tion of my life...My pussy is the 
temple of learning." Madonna, 
Sex, Warner Books 1992. 

Robert Plant: "You can't know 
much about sex...The instruction 
is to enjoy yourself and be as cool 
as you can, and 
now, as careful 
as you can." 
Interview, june 
1993. 

Henry Rollins: 

"I'll have my arm 
around a girl—I'll 
see two, and I'll 
want to screw 
that one, that 
one, that one, 
that one—any¬ 
thing that looks 
good. I want it. 
There's nothing 
wrong with me...It's Darwin kick¬ 
ing...going, 'Keep the species 
going.'" Ear Magazine, 1988 

Tina Turner: "Naturally I lost my 
virginity in the backseat of a car: 
This was the 50s, right?...Well, it 
hurt so bad—I think my earlobes 
were hurting." I, Tina, Avon Books 
1986. 

Frank Zappa: "My attitude toward 
anybody's sexual persuasion is 
this: without deviation from the 
norm, progress Is not possible." 
the safer planet sex diary, Tuppy 
Owens 1994. 

—Compiled by Allison Diamond 


► After doing time with late-80s 
PUNKSTERS Pussy Galore, Cristina 
Martinez formed her own noise 
fest, Boss Hog. Her latest release is 
CIRL+ (Amphetamine Reptile). 


to jacking off in the 
bathroom and what 
else...got a nice little 
porno movie collection. 
I'm a self-proclaimed 
freak. That doesn't mean 
I do nasty things, but I 
really enjoy sex, you 
know? 

Alex Paterson (the Orb): 

Apocalypse Now and 
Blade Runner, the actual 
book. It's called Do 
Androids Dream of Electric 
Sheep? 




A BAND THAT WRITES 
A LOT OF COOL 
SONGS WITH GIRLS' 
NAMES IN THE 
TITLES. Freak City 
Soundtrack 
(Mercury) is 

THEIR LATEST 
RELEASE. 


Kinc Duncan (Sheep on Druos): 

Maybe people'll be a bit more 
adventurous and try different 
things, like a bit of S/M or sodomy. 
People will be less ashamed. It's 
cool to be kinky. 

Alex PATiRSON (the Orb): 

Unless we develop 12-foot 
penises that can bend around 
corners to make sex different, I 
have no idea what you'd really change 
about the reproductive system. 


sexually explicit, but there are 
undertones of sex throughout the 
whole thing. 

Do you think 
sex will be 
different b> 
the end of 
the century? 
The end of 
the next 
millennium? 

Steve Albini: 

Come on, that's such a preposter¬ 
ous, early-70s science fiction 
notion of the future. The future is 
going to be pretty much the same 
way it is now, as it was 50 years 
ago or 100 years ago. The only 
difference is the trinkets that we'll 
use, the different means of com¬ 
munication and transportation 
and information distribution. 


Baby Girl (Hoez With ATTrruDi): 

Talking about sexuality is going 
to bring along new freedom. 


Debbie Harry: 

I think we'll find a way to 
reproduce asexually. 


Mo|0 Nixon: 

The tease. The art of 
erotic revelation and the horny 
in everyday—not models and 
actors and freaks of nature—but 
John Doe fuckin' in his truck 
durin' his lunch break. 


Michael Franti: 

I thought that film Daughters of 
the Dust was erotic. Its the first 
film that I know of 
that shows black 
women up 
close, like 
full face 
shots on 
screen. Its 
not even 



















What would 
happen if 
you could be 
sexually^ , 

^ satisfied 24 
hours a day? 


AiiX pATIgSQN (THi ORU): 

I'd have a pretty sore knob. 

Mojo Nixon: 

Like the proverbial dog who can 
lick his own balls, I wouldn't get 
outta the house much. 

Tim SKOio (Ihotcon MfSiiAH): 

I'd be happy, I guess. And 
bruised. 

Too Snoiit: 

I've been there be-fore—I would 
probably have a lover who was 
just as I wanted her to be. I like 
a woman that has a natural 
look, even after you've been 
banging it around the bed, ain't 
got up in 24 hours, there's still a 
certain beauty about her, you 
know? That doesn't necessarily 
mean she's got to be light¬ 
skinned with long hair, but I 
mean you know, just a certain 
beauty, a natural beauty and it 
doesn't take any lipstick or 
makeup to bring that beauty 
out. 

CmiTiNA (Boss Hoo); 

My life would be boring. What 
would I have to look forward to? 
I revel in my misery. 

Im iNTiRiOB (Thi Crambs): 

No waiting. 


Dead Lee (Sheep on Drucs): 

1 am sexually satisfied 24 
hours a day. 

David Vow 
(The Jesus Lizard): 

Other than being sexually 
satisfied, not much. 1 mean 
that would even prevent me 
from having the dessert 
cigarette. 

Baby CiIRI 

(Hoez With Attitude); 

Td put the Ben Wa company out 
of business. And when that time 
comes, trust me, Tm going to 
call you guys up and let you 
know. I'm going to write a song 
about it. It'll be a beautiful thing. 

af 

Special thanks to the following people 
for their help with this feature: 

David Rothschild is a Chicago-based \ 
freelance writer whose "Home Front" : 
local music column appears weekly in 
the Chicago Tribune. Rothschild also 
writes about computers, sex, death and | 
taxes. His online address is i 
Nelsonl3@aol.com. 

Gwendlynn Meno's essay "R&B & The 
Bedroom" appears on page 34. 

Judy Mcguire is a NYC-based freelancer 
living in a cramped apartment with her 
cockatiel Albert and her man Lou. 

Steven Blush is the publisher of Seconds ! 
magazine. His work has appeared in \ 
Details, New Musical Express and 

Interview. | 

i 

Allison Diamond and Daryl-Lynn 
Johnson are on staff at Future Sex. i 


Jim liuioN 
(Materiai Issue): 

Td probably marry 
her. 

DEBBii Harry: 

I've come very close 
to being sexually 
satisfied 24 hours a 
day, very close, but 
not quite. I think 
if I was sexually 
satisfied all the time, 
then I would forget 
that I was sexually 
satisfied and Td have 
to do something 
to come down. 

Like commit 
murder or 
something. 


^ The former 

SINGER FOR 

Disposable Heroes 
OF Hiphoprisy, 
Michael Franti 

VOTES WITH HIS 

voice, instilling 

INTELLIGENCE INTO 
THE ONGOING RAP 
DIALOGUE. 




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By BAVID AARON CLARK 



qj4. 


6^ d 



devotee of tJie 
macabre; I will 
testify that when 
it comes to S/M and the 
darker lusts, there's 
no better pop sound¬ 
track than Goth. 

Yes, Tm a black-clad, 
scar-necked sap, libido 
damaged by a youth full 
of Saturday-afternoon 
Hammer Film Studio 
blood-sex-terror epics, 
not to mention under- 
the-covers, over-voracious consumptions of 
Stoker, Shelly and LeFanu. I grew up swooning 
for Camilla's sharp kiss, Lillith's treacherous 
caress, Salome's murderous bump 'n' grind. 
Vampirella and her skimpy shiny red one- 
piece complemented by Bettie Page bangs and 
Christopher Lee fangs launched my interest in 
the female anatomy to heights undreamed of 
prior to the fifth grade, contraband covers 
peeking up at me from the bottom of my gym 
bag when multiplication tables grew too, too 
boring. So what better eventual accompani¬ 
ment to all this Halloween lust than would-be 
princes of darkness like Nick Cave, Andrew 
Eldritch and Glenn Danzig? 

True, these singers technically fall into 
different sub-genres, but the swagger remains 
the same. Metal, "alternative" or punk, the 
mad eyes glaring from under pale brows 
framed by dyed-black hair betray the common 
conceit: There's nothing scarier than a good 
fuck. Or sexier than a good scare. 


Aussie badboy Cave mmbles in 
front of his band the Bad Seeds on The 
First Bom Is Dead, bemoaning the siren 
entrapment practiced by the barely ripe 
fruit of "The Little Girl Tree:" "I 
know your candybones will be the 
death of me." Eldritch snarls 
field orders during the Sisters 
of Mercy's "Lucretia, My 
Reflection:" " 1 see the pain 
and the sadness of the dispos¬ 
sessed/ Get down, get undressed." 

And it works for girls, 
too: Lydia Lunch is the original 
death-venerating, whiny, ballbusting domi- 
natrix/punk goddess. Her moans of orgasmic 
pain bring a whole new meaning to verbal 
abuse, delivering aural S/M that sinks 
beneath the second skin and churn the 
blood restless. Lunch's cover of AM radio hit 
"Don't Fear the Reaper" exposed the fatal 
attraction lurking beneath the original's 
sweet guitar strum. 

Goth and S/M strike the same chord: 
The color scheme, the fabrics, the arcane 
fetishistic accessories, the studied ritual and 
romance are near-interchangeable. Sallow 
groupies dressed in silver and black leather 
and drowning in mascara yearn to burn 
when buff little Glenn Danzig flexes his pecs 
and croaks the death-metal anthem "Under 
Her Black Wings"; or when The Cure's 
greasepaint-smeared Robert Smith wiggles his 
black spidery arms and croons before con¬ 
suming "The Caterpillar" in an act of erotic 
cannibalism. 

The melodrama of Goth demands 
byzantine and radical sexual scenarios— 
plain old rutting just won't do. Major 
masochist that I am, I know there's no bet¬ 
ter music to be pierced and cut by than the 
renaissance-trance howls of Dead Can 
Dance. Or the Goth granddaddies the 
Velvets droning through the stately 
"Venus in Furs." Lou Reed's adaptation of 
Sacher-Masoch's seminal novel of erotic 
torture is always best heard on your 
knees. 


David Aaron Clark is the author of The Wet 
Forever and Sister Radiance (Rhinoceros 
Books). His band False Virgins recorded two 
albums in the early VO's, and he's cur¬ 
rently working on a modem interpre¬ 
tation ofde Sade's Juliette. 



Q 

.u 


he term groupie 
III came into use in 
I * the 60s to describe 
I girls who had sex 
I with guys who 
I were rock stars. 
JL Undoubtedly, 
powerful males had 
groupies before that. A 
dude like Napoleon 
could have demanded as 
much pussy as he pos¬ 
sibly wanted, but there 
must have been plenty 
of volunteers. 

A rock journalist 
recently told me, pri¬ 
vately—and rather 
sadly—that, "Those 
old days of wrecking 
hotel rooms and 
impregnating local 
underaged girls are 
gone." Even classic 
cock-rockers like 
Guns Vn' Roses and 
Aerosmith are much 
more careful then rock 
stars were in the good 
old days, when Rolling 
Stone reporters could 
witness and write about 
the gangbanging of a 
high school virgin on 
the Rolling Stones' air¬ 
plane by band and staff 
members, wdth the Mick 
cornin' last on the back 
end. [Note: gangbanging 
refers here neither to drive- 
by shootings nor rape, but 
consensual sex between a 
woman and several men.). 

Gender equality part¬ 
ly accounts for the less¬ 
ening of grand deca¬ 
dence and perversity 
among male rock stars, 
but so does political cor 
redness. Rock culture 


BY R.U. SIRIUS 


critic Greil Marcus 
has written about 
the nerdy, neo- 
Marxist, early-80s 
English bands 
(Gang of Four, 
The Mekons, etc.) 
more concerned 
with critiquing 
the social and 
economic rela¬ 
tions of sex than 
with having it. 
And today's 
"grunge" 
bands write 
about hopeless 
relationships 
awash in trivi¬ 
ality and fear 
of intimacy...no, 
make that fear 
of everything. 

But the con¬ 
servative, cor¬ 
porate atmos¬ 
phere of the 
music industry 
is the biggest 
culprit. The 
decadent, aging 
rock star has 
become the 
politicized elder 
statesmen, almost 
Gore-like in stiff- 


1957: 

1959: 

1964: 

1967: 

1967: 

1968: 

1969: 

1970; 

jerry Lee Lewis 

The first of 

The FBI, after 

The Rolling 

Marianne 

john Lennon 

jim Morrison 

Peter Yarrow of 

raises eyebrows 

Chuck Berry's 

investigating 

Stones appear 

Faithfull and 

and Yoko Ono 

arrested for 

Peter, Paul and 

by wedding his 

many indict¬ 

The Kingsmen's 

on The Ed 

Mick Jagger 

appear com¬ 

drunkenly wav¬ 

Mary arrested 

13-year-old 

ments for a sex¬ 

"Louie Louie" 

Sullivan Show 

arrested at 

pletely nude on 

ing his dick 

for "taking 

cousin. 

ual offense, this 

for suspected 

and are forced 

Mick's home. 

the cover of 

around onstage 

immoral liber¬ 


one involving a 

obscenity, con¬ 

to change the 

with Marianne 

their latest 

in Miami. 

ties" with a 14- 


prostitute. 

clude that they 

words "Let's 

escorted to jail 

album Two 


year-old girl, 



have no idea 

spend the night 

in nothing but a 

Virgins. 


shortly after 



what the song 

together" to 

white bearskin 



receiving the 



is about. 

"Let's spend 

rug. 



Grammy for the 




some time 




year's Best 




together." 




Children's 

Album. 
































Teenagers 

always find 
reasons to live 
and die in popular 
music. Getting older 
automatically grinds this passion to a halt, 
as we become simultaneously more cynical 
and invested. But you never forget your 
first, and my first was Jimi Hendrix. He 
was, as they say, a fuckin' genius, who died 


ness and rectitude. The all 
night party has given way 
to the after-show meeting 
with accountants and 
lawyers. Cocaine and 
Pernod have been 
replaced by vegetarian 
fare and Perrier. 
Waking up at 1 pm to 
stare at old Gong Show 
repeats lost out to the 
early-morning jog. All, 
of course, in a bid for 
rock and roll longevity; 
a dubious concept 
when you consider that 
overfed, aging rock stars 
may actually make bet¬ 
ter music if they're a lit¬ 
tle bit strung out, since 
that allows them to main¬ 
tain some semblance of 
freakishness long after the 


accountant's bottom line has 
dominated their conscious¬ 
ness. 

Voyeuristic rock fans need¬ 
n't despair completely. After 
all, Tve only been talking 
about "heterosexual" white 
boys who, by the way, no 
longer dominate the charts. 
For everyone else, rock and 
roll still means sex. And their 
fans are still slaves to the 
rhythm. 

¥■ 

RM Sirius is co-founder and 
Icon-at-large for Mondo 2000 
magazine and vocalistAead 
conceptualist for MondoVanilli. 

He is also a freelance 
multimedia brat. 


at the height of our country's discontent, 
an estrangement he described many times 
in his lyrics. He commented on society's 
rules and wages of war as a veteran who 
knew firsthand the black, brown and work¬ 
ing class shades of America's ground 
troops. For these reasons, 1 idolize him not 
only as a revolutionary guitarist, but as a 
revolutionary. 


But there is something about Jimi's 
sound, rather than the lyrics or the times 
he lived in, that makes me want to be free, 
in that classic sense of no inhibitions, no 
authority. Many who revere Hendrix rap 
about his technical mastery and mystery. 
But the biggest mystery to me isn't how he 
achieved his outlandish distortion, it's 
how he made my world seem so distorted; 
why "If six turned out to be nine/ 1 don't 
mind, I don't mind." Tve been playing 
Electric Ladyland regularly for 20 years now, 
but 1 didn't examine what Jimi meant to 
me until I had a very weird flashback 
in 1986. 

It was the day the US 
bombed Libya and I was at 
a lesbian strip show. Every 
Tuesday, 1 co-hosted a 
women-only strip club and 
this evening was the usual 
200-plus crowd of leather 
dykes, financial district 
escapees and Midwestern 
tourists. The strippers were 
all local girls who danced 
to Top 40, which at 
that time was a string of 
tunes by Janet Jackson, 
Aerosmith and Vanity. An 
80s crowd, an 80s beat, 
and the last thing I expect¬ 
ed to hear was "Machine 
Gun," the title track and 
antiwar anthem from 
Hendrix's 1970 release. 

The first riffs erupted on 
a bare stage, and then a 
yellow spotlight came up. 
Out of the darkness, an 
"older" dancer named Lupe 
(almost 30) crawled onstage on her belly, in 
a combat uniform and a gas mask. She was 
a death spirit; her body was contorted and 
furious and the only thing erotic about it 
was Hendrix's ferocious rat-a-tat-tat making 
her little body undulate. Her set took 12 
and a half minutes, and the one thing that 
never came off was the gas mask. 



I don't know what the girls at the 
cocktail tables were thinking. I don't know 
if cruising came to a halt. Most of the audi¬ 
ence was younger than me, and 1 doubt 
they could remember Walter Cronkite 
announcing the number of dead in 
Vietnam. When Lupe left the stage, she 
was soaking wet. 1 didn't know if it was 
tears or sweat dripping off her face. But 
when she saw everything running down 
my face, she hugged me and began to cry 
in earnest. "You know why I did it, you 
know," she said. 

We'd both spent umpteen hours lis¬ 
tening to Machine Gun (Hendrix's most 
political and "black" work) during our 
coming of age, simultaneously chewing 
mucho peyote, making love to men and 
women and cursing the fucking United 
States of Amerikkka. It was a time of 
inverted patriotism, where the very thing 
that made you hate the Pentagon, Tricky 
Dick and LBJ was the same thing that 
made you think that maybe this country 
had some greatness after all, if we could 
only get rid of the pigs. My anti-capitalist 
instincts were bedfellows with my desire 
for sexual freedom, which to this day 
seems antithetical to the WASP work ethic. 
Jimi's music tied these two things together 
for me. 

There's also another element that 
linked my revolutionary interest in him to 
my sexual interest. Everyone who has read 
the Hendrix biographies knows about Jimi's 
huge sexual appetite, his big dick and his 
black erotic presence in a white milieu. But 
during my lesbian strip-show years, 1 found 
an unexpected piece of information. One 
of Hendrix's closest running buddies was a 
woman named Devon; his lover, room¬ 
mate, pimp, dealer and adviser. She was 
often called a supergroupie and linked to 
Mick Jagger and others. But the most inter¬ 
esting thing I read was that she was bisexu¬ 
al, a hooker who only loved women but 
fucked men for money and advantage. That 
describes most of the women I met at our 
lesbian burlesque. 


1976: 

Captain and 
Tennille release 
"Muskrat 
Love." Erotic 
lyrics reach an 
all-time low. 


1981; 

Wendy O. 
Williams arrest¬ 
ed on obscenity 
charges in 
Milwaukee for 
simulating sex 
onstage with a 
sledgehammer. 
She is arrested 
the next day in 
Cleveland on 
similar charges. 


1984: 

BBC radio bans 
"Relax" by 
Frankie Coes 
to Hollywood 
for "overly 
obscene lyrics." 
The song reach¬ 
es #1 on the 
charts immedi¬ 
ately thereafter. 


1986: 

Wayne Hussey 
of The Mission 
UK banned 
from a night¬ 
club for fucking 
in the ladies' 
room. 


1990: 

Charles 
Freeman, 
record store 
owner, convict¬ 
ed on a felony 
obscenity 
charge In 
Florida for sell¬ 
ing the 2 Live 
Crew album As 
Nasty as they 
Wanna Be to a 
minor. 


1992: 

Lead singer for 
the punk band 
The Insaints 
arrested in 
Berkeley, CA for 
having sex with 
fruit onstage, or 
as she charm¬ 
ingly put it, 
"putting a 
banana in my 
coochie." 


1992: 

Madonna 

releases the 
book Sex, a col¬ 
lection of erotic 
photos and 
essays featuring 
herself. 


1993 

Funk impresario 
Rick James sen¬ 
tenced to jail 
for the kidnap¬ 
ping, torture 
and sexual 
abuse of a busi¬ 
ness associate. 

—Compiled by 
Paul Kimball 























One thing that sex and music have in 
common is rhythm: throbbing pelvic 
impulses that reduce one and all to the level 
of rapine sex machines and comely kittens. 
Since the Invention of electronically repro¬ 
ducible music, every bedroom has become 
a primal swamp of passion, with sexually 
stimulating sounds oozing out of strategical¬ 
ly placed speakers. When asked what the 
best music to fuck to was, the following 
poignant replies stand out: 


Leonard Cohen: "In 
the old days, people 
used to say my stuff 
was very good for 
that. I prefer Chopin's 
'Nocturnes' myself." 


Lydia Lunch: "it 
depends on the mood 
and the costume 
you're wearing." 


Gene Simmons (Kiss): "A Mozart piano con¬ 
certo or the sound of a girl giving me a hum 
job, whichever works." 


Robert Plant: '"Bossanova Baby' by Elvis, 
that'll do. But it's best to turn the music off 
altogether and keep the music In your 
head." 


Mark Mothersbaugh (Devo): "It doesn't mat¬ 
ter if it's disco or acid or house or rock, but 
it has to be an LP, a plastic record. You 
need a scratch so that it skips and loops 
back to nirvana." 


jiM Thirlwell (Foetus/Clint Ruin) : "For fore¬ 
play, I like ski lodge/cocktail music. Then I 
like two or three stereos playing at once—ail 
for one night of lovemaking." 


)ayne County: "I'd have to think about that 
because I haven't had sex in over a year I 
have no libido. Sex is just too much trouble; 
I'd rather have wet dreams. But if you put 
on the Velvet Underground, the sex could 
probably turn out to be, shall we say, inter¬ 
esting." 



Redman: "| get busy to P-Funk. 

Yo, I freak to the straight-up 
I funk." 


—Compiled by Steven Blush, 
publisher of 
Seconds, a New 
York-based music inter¬ 
view magazine. 



Devon's bisexuality isn't 
commented on much in the typ¬ 
ical Hendrix bio except to say 
that Jimi "straightened Devon 
out." I found that very funny, 
because my reading of a woman 
like Devon is that she queered 
Jimi in. Hendrix wrote a song 
about his muse, "Dolly Dagger," 
which one official biographer 
claimed was a rhyme mocking 
Devon's relationship with Jagger. 
Obviously, this rock journalist 
didn't know the biggest contri¬ 
bution Black English has made to 
the queer vernacular: Bulldagger. 
Dolly/Devon was a bulldagger 
par excellence: "Been riding 
broomsticks since she was fif- 
teen/Blowing out all the other 
witches on the scene/She got a 
bullwhip just as long as your life/ 
Her tongue can even scratch the 
soul out of the devil's wife/I seen 
her in action at the player's 
choice/ Turning all the love men 
into doughnut boys." 

I wondered if "donut boys" 
meant guys who couldn't wait to 
get Dolly's dick up their ass. 
Instead of imagining Hendrix's 
big dick, I saw his begging ass¬ 
hole and Dolly taking him with 
her magic broom. After all, men 
don't say "'Sense me while I kiss 
the sky" if they haven't been 
down on their knees. 

I find it absolutely plausible 
that Hendrix was a dyke daddy, a 
fellow traveler, and the queer 
femme icing on his soul was 
something I could anchor my 
militant teenage sexuality to. Of 
course, Tm practicing the ulti¬ 
mate Spectator's Choice, making 
my hero into me, believing that 
we shared a faith instead of a 
good beat we could dance to. 
Hendrix introduced me to the 
blues, to sex funk and to divine 
cacophony. If I hadn't been 15 at 
the time I could not have hung 
my political and erotic identity 
on his hook—but I was. 

I've fantasized about fuck¬ 
ing many rock and roll stars, but 
I've never again had the feeling I 
got with Hendrix that I could 
fuck the whole wide world. With 
Jimi you could love it and leave 
it: the two philosophies were not 
exclusive. He carved an axis bold 
as love and left me—and a lot of 
others—spinning in it forever. 


Susie Bright is the editor of 
Best American Erotica, 1993 
(Colliers) and the author of Sexual 
Reality: A virtual Sex World 
Reader (Cleis) 




(ym 



(m 


Xem Idol Fantasy 


y earliest "'Tims'* 

I of getting heal s ^ through 1968 

X of adult carnality? ^ 3et rates fre- 

These days, niy Monke«^h^,^ 
uent play, and ^ gut 

hanks to Nichfodeon) in Peter 

ack then my fave ° Jj^Jhly British! tam- 

hild-proportioned. an Diminutive 

(ourine-banger for the 

,.,,g„,toslng.hes,PP««^ 

.ove," "1 Wanna Free ) hand 

roy") tunes adegedy pje-adolescent hor- 

contrived solely to P of little 

Casting, a teen goes°farther back. 1 once 

Of course, tradition g ^ Frankie 

asked my ‘"“p’^Yatl 1940s when Sinatra caused 
enthusiast m the late , jpopieiu of pop- 

riots at concert ''e’^ue . „.^ho wasn't!" 

culture el^^.idation s P ^ greasy but 

cutest?" Hollywood set out to 

But with The Monke ’ ^^ity__exploiting 
realize a huge i«®!^Bettng PP 

the earliest qu^^-y/'^pHars) via media-engen- 

with Mom and D^d s ' role was pin-up. 

dered "musiaans wdose p 1 

Who cared if /i'dn 7 cared if they 

instrumeiits everything. Within 

could really sing. § ggt to know on TV 

their songs pen-pal ®®^?p/rhe overwhelming 
Girls were (andjemam^ t^^^^ ^ 

audience target- Sure, hor y precocity 

the early 1960s had Annett^ | 

to dwell on. in the 70 s, recota ^g ^ ^ 

Ladd, The Runaways and dream. 

Pussycats tostered inany Hot 

But while tnig P jack-off picto- 













A'4' tVlP 3.£[6 of 10 

were raised to think — sLe Big 

or so, their formative lusts coui J ballad-novella 

Larihy ^otherfu „Let's Spend 

"Seasons in the Sun /-Kama’s Got a Squeeze Box. 
the Night Toj ^ctcSt^d 'm^nilaS^yaced disconcert- 

ing urges in comfortaWe contegs. .^^ symbolisin 

The 70s were a ^ saturday-morning cartoori 

into hairless, Innocent bo&^S^t scrubbed 

theme-song star Rick p creemdreems deluding 

face in a never-ending closer to home, we had 

Jack Wild and Gilbert O Su iv . jjy stoned-look- 

’s?a«» CassM,. «Sr bai 

ing Leif Garrett-all ^ i^wed and discarded 

“".““bog- John SSk-me“l‘l 

ness, sounded the f ^p^Sig the New Kids on the 

tancy on the teenscene. Foh^ 8 evidence 

Block, Marky Mark's ^ big arms, big 

of new frontiers in fg^ed below the equator. 

Kes^l ?v:nS\o« raps. The entire pack- 

still think wistfully of Da'^ ^nt there: Thanks for 

ain't quite my type^ foroative fantasies for several million 

Sfcolll-Tdri^ ^ 


Dennis 



BY ANN POWiRS 


I have a friend who first discovered sex 

by staring at the photograph of Keith Richards on the cover of the 
Stones' Out of Our Heads. In that shot, the boys are just outgrowing 
their respectable haircuts and look ready to burn their art-school but- 
tondowns; shoved in a stairwell, they peer out through the seamiest 
possible shade of black-and-white film stock. Keith's the most rum¬ 
pled and the most seductive of all, the kind of guy you'd turn to in 
the morning and say, oh, God, before saying, what the hell. My 
friend was seven when she pulled this record from her dad's stack. All 
she knew was that looking at Keith gave her funny feelings, electric 
itches, something creeping around inside that she couldn't name. 

When you're a kid and sex remains more mysterious than compli¬ 
cated, pop music gives you hints. At least that's what it did for me and my 
friends during the 70s: the red transistor radio I tucked under my pillow did¬ 
n't pick up dirty blues or Millie Jackson, and there hadn't yet come a time 
when a pop singer could simply announce that he wanted to lick you up and 
down. Because the explicit was rare, we learned through nuance. And in 
showing how eroticism can hide in sneaky corners, pop taught us some 
subtleties nobody bothered to discuss in Sex Ed. 

In my youngest, Beatle-loving days. I'd imitate John sucking in his 
breath on "Girl," going light-headed in simulation of lust. I knew his 
backward sigh signaled something uncontrollable; the lyrics said this 
girl treated him badly, he'd leave if he could, but—there was the 
blood rush, and the moan on that word "girl" that proved he was 
enjoying it. I felt like I knew the Beatles so John's suave moves didn't 
scare me, just intrigued me, sort of like Minnie Ripperton's coy substitu¬ 
tion, "Every time that we...oo/?/' on "Loving You." These songs cultivat¬ 
ed the language of repression and careful relief that I'd learned through a 
conservative upbringing. Every feeling, every phrase in its place. 


Sexual Aides 


How to order them without embarrassment. 
How to use them without disappointment. 


T oday, people are interested in improv¬ 
ing the quality of their lives and 
exploring their own sensuality with 
options from the Xandria Collection. 

The most important aspect of satisfaction 
is trust. Trust us to make sure that thoughtful 
consideration goes into choosing each prod¬ 
uct in the catalogue, as to its quality, value, 
and sensual appeal. 

nrhe Xandria Collection, Dept, o 7 9 4 x I 

P.O. Box 31039, San Francisco, CA 94131 

Please send me, by first class mail, my copy of the Xandria Gold 
Edition catalogue. Enclosed is my check or money order for 
four dollars which will be applied toward my first purchase. 

($4 U.S., $5 CAN.,£3U.K.) 

Name__ 


City_ 


_ Zip_ 


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I _ Void where prohibited by law. _ I 


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But then came Chaka Khan. Now, 
she scared me. When I was ten, I consid¬ 
ered 'Tell Me Something Good" a floating 
monument to all things sexual, and felt as 
terrified in its presence as I was intrigued. 

The song began with a bass that slapped 
and a wah-wah guitar that positively 
drooled; it sounded like masculinity 
unleashed. In strode Chaka, voice 
open and dripping like the honey that 
covered the naked woman on that Ohio 
Players album cover. For years I thought 
the first line was, "You ain't got no kind 
of pill inside," an elliptical reference to 
birth control. Actually, Chaka's telling her 
man to loosen up, take off that Qiana shirt, 
have some fun. But I could hardly follow her 
advice when, in the break, a chorus of pant¬ 
ing Rufus members encouraged Chaka toward 
her final seduction. "Tell me something good," 
she leered right back, "Tell me that you like it." 
The "it" really threw me. There could be no mis¬ 
take—she wasn't after friendship or the pedestal 
adoration promoted in songs by the Bee Gees and 
their brothers in teen idoldom. She wanted him to 
like "it," a material thing, her body, their sex. 

That one "it" forced me to admit that romance 
led beyond the quick kiss Parker Stevenson would 
steal from that week's guest girl on The Hardy 
Boys. Chaka's plain-spoken desire registered more 
deeply than did the misty cartoon Donna 
Summer seemed to embody in "Love to Love 
You Baby." Summer's moaner was the kind of 
hit we giggled over; as a reference, it got 
passed around like the copy of Jaws that cir¬ 
culated in fifth grade, with the wet-panty 
scene earmarked and chocolate-stained. 

I wouldn't cross the next border until 
I heard Bryan Ferry sing "Love is the 
Drug," and began to comprehend that 
sex would be as intricate and daunting 
for adults. But by then I'd learned 
how to masturbate, discovered Bruce 
Springsteen, and almost heard about 
the Clash. Those funny feelings were 
here to stay. 



Ann Powers is o Senior Editor at The Village Voice. 
She no longer pursues sexual relationships with 
rock musicians, but still uses music to get off. 


Lately 

I've found 
myself won¬ 
der in g just 
how old you 
have to be 
before you start 
turning in to your 
parents. 25? 30? 40? 

Or could it simply be the 
natural evolution of society that 
makes people say, "That would 
have never happened when I was 
growing up"? 

Those very words echo in my 
mind whenever I listen to rappers 
known for their sexual candor like 
Luke or Too Short: "Most brothers 
try to take freaks out/ I get a 
woman stick my dick in her 
mouth/ they spend money on a 
movie and some dinner/ but Short 
DogTl go straight up in her." Of 
course, the argument has been 
made that R&B singers have always 
sung about sex, they just dressed it 
up with a bit of romance, hiding 
their real intention with innuendo. 
True, but not all soul crooners 
bothered to dress it up. 

Take the 50s hit "Sixty Minute 
Man" by The Dominoes, undoubt¬ 
edly one of the first braggadocios 
ever recorded. "There'll be fifteen 
minutes of kissing'/ then you'll 
holler 'Please don't stop'/ there'll be 
fifteen minutes of teasin' and fifteen 
minutes of squeezin'/ and fifteen 
minutes of bio win' my top," And it 
didn't stop there. Fast-forward to 
the 70s and you have Marvin Gaye's 
"You Sure Love to Bail," which basi¬ 
cally went, "Oh baby, please turn 
yourself around/ oh baby so I can 
love you good/ oh baby, I'll make 
you feel so good/ oh sugar, just like 
you want me to.. ./oh baby, you sure 
love to ball." 


So what's the big deal? Black 
music has always dealt with sex. I 
think it's a good thing that today's 
musical artists are expressing a 
more explicit, if controversial, side 
of their sexual selves, primarily 
because it shows young women 
that love and sex are two different 
things. 

Watch any daytime talk show 
and sooner or later you'll run 
across a group of gals who gave in 
to sex when what they really 
sought was love and intimacy. 
Why is it so hard for most women 
to separate love and sex? Men seem 
to have less of a problem telling the 
difference. One school of thought 
says it's biological; it's women's 
baby-making hormones that fuse 
and confuse the two. I think it has 
more to do with social condition¬ 
ing. After listening to enough 
Luther Vandross songs, she'll swear 
any man willing to treat her well is 
sincere and deserves to be "treated" 
right back. Where is the voice that 
warns us females about the guy 
who chats us up for a week or so 
and finally beds us, only to never 
be heard from again? It seems talk¬ 
ing about love and relationships is 
much easier than frankly discussing 
sex. If no one else is willing to lay it 
on the line, guys like Too Short 
deserve some credit. 

Perhaps by listening to some 
of the songs that have middle 
America in an uproar, today's 
young women will learn that sex is 
sex and love is love. And when the 
two meet, it's a sweetness that's 
anyone's weakness. 


Gwendlynn Meno is a music criUc/contribut- 
ing writer for Thrasher magazine. Most 
noted for her essays on hip-hop music and 
culture, her work appears regularly in the 
East Bay Express and S.F. Weekly. 


1. 2 Live Crew: Me So Horny 

2. Aerosmith: Love In an Elevator 

3. Alien Sex Fiend: 

Drive My Rocket (Up Uranus) 

4. Bel Biv DeVoe: Do Me Baby 

5. Berlin: Sex (I'm a . . .) 

6. Black Flag: Slip It In 

7. Blondie: X Offender 

8. Bow Wow Wow: I Want Candy 

9. lames Brown: 

Get Up I Feel Like Being A Sex Machtne 

10. The Buzzcocks: Orgasm Addict 


it. Neneh Cherry: So Here I Come 

12. Color Me Badd: I Want to Sex You Up 

13. Commodores: Brick House 

14 . Elvis Costello: Pump It Up 

15. Jayne County (aka Wayne County): Cream 
in My jeans 

16. The Cramps: Can Your Pussy Do the Dog? 

17. The Cure: Let's Go to Bed 

IB. Dead Kennedys: Too Drunk to Fuck 

19. Depeche Mode: Master and Servant 

20. The Divinyls: I Touch Myself 

21. The Doors: Back Door Man 

22. Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show: 

Your Pussy Don't Taste Like It Used To 

23. Ian Dury: Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll 


24. Fear: Beef Baloney 

25. Frankie Goes to Hollywood: Relax 

26. Peter Gabriel: Sledgehammer 

27. Marvin Gaye: Let's Get It On 

28. Generation X: Dancing With Myself 

29. Gleaming Spires: 

Are You Ready for the Sex Girls? 

30. Richard Hell and the Voidolds: 

Love Comes in Spurts 

31. Rick James: Super Freak 

32. Jane's Addiction: Whores 

33. Grace Jones: Pull Up to the Bumper 

34. KC and the Sunshine Band: 

Get Down Tonight 

35. The Kinks: Lola 


z* 





























B¥ JONATMAN HAYiS 


To BEUEVE WHAT YOU READ 

IN The Media is to see rave as a 
NON-STOP underage ORGY, FUELED 
BY HALLUCINOGENIC LOVE DRUGS. 

This simple-minded conclusion is 

REACHED BY LOOKING BACK ON PREVI¬ 
OUS GENERATIONS WHERE REBELLION 
HAS EXPRESSED BY ATTACKING MAIN¬ 
STREAM ETIQUETTE THROUGH LOUD 
"wild" music, conformist TASTE 
^HROUGH UNORTHODOX FASHION, 
AND SKEWERING TRADITIONAL MORAL- 
fTf WITH OVERT SEXUALITY. BUT RAVE 
S DIFFERENT FROM PAST REBEL YOUTH 
CULTURES, PARTICULARLY WHEN IT 
COMES TO SEX. 

In A WORLD STRETCHED OUT 
ON THE ASHES OF THE SEXUAL 

Revolution, the idea of teenagers 

HAVING SEX is RELATIVELY FREE OF 
SHOCK VALUE. MOREOVER, BECAUSE 
Of AIDS, THE IMPLICATIONS OF A 
BACKSEAT FUCK ARE RADICALLY 
CHANGED—^THE APPLE IS NO LONGER 
•UST FORBIDDEN, IT'S ALSO BEEN 
POISONED. 

Rave culture is now mainly 
white teenage SUBURBAN THING, 
AND RAVE STYLE IS A COOLLY IRONIC 
ON 70s LEISURE, REjOICING IN A 
FONDNESS FOR POLYESTER TRASH AND 
*HE WARM-TONED KITCHEN COLORS 
jF 1974 — AVOCADO, GOLD, RUST. 
On the whole, the look is either 
Too Large (the little waif 
drowning helplessly in oversize 
clothes) or Too Small (the aban¬ 
doned child, too poor to afford 

"HE CLOTHES SHE HAS OUTGROWN). 

The boys' clothes are functional: 

DVERSIZE, WIDE-LEGGED PANTS, 

BAGGY T-shirts, knit caps and ten¬ 
nis shoes; white, mainly. Girls' 

►ASHION IS OFTEN DELIBERATELY SEXU- 

-JZED Little Girl: striped, 

STRETCHY TOPS WORN SEVERAL SIZES 
TOO SMALL WITH MINISKIRTS THAT 

don't match. The sexualization is 


ALWAYS UNDERCUT BY SNIDE POP- 
CULTURE COMMENTARY—A TIGHT 
BLACK EXERCISE BRA WILL BE OFFSET BY 

A Super Mario Brothers backpack. 
Some wear their hair in pigtails, 

OR PINNED BACK WITH CHEAP, PLAS¬ 
TIC BABY BARRETTES. OTHERS WEAR IT 
SHORT AND RAGGED, DYED AN 
UNEVEN SHADE OF PATHETIC ORPHAN 

Blonde. 

Raves start late and last 

UNTIL DAYBREAK, THE MUSIC IS 
ANONYMOUS TECHNO; DRUM-HEAVY 
AND EXTREMELY FAST (1 40 TO 200 
BEATS PER MINUTE VERSUS DISCO, 
PLODDING ALONG AT 1 20 BPM) 
WITH STOMACH-TURNING BASS 
SEQUENCERS. VOCALS ARE SPARSE, 
A FEW DISEMBODIED SAMPLES. 

Sometimes the music is so fast 
THAT there's LITTLE OPTION FOR ANY¬ 
THING BEYOND VIOLENT TWITCHING, 
AT WHICH POINT SOME RAVERS 
DEFAULT TO BLISSING OUT ON THE 
FLOOR, NESTLING ON THE BACKPACKS, 
SUCKING A LOLLIPOP, CUDDLING A 
STUFFED ANIMAL AND WATCHING 
FRIENDS dance AROUND THEM. 

As THE NIGHT DRAWS ON, THE 
MIXTURE OF SUSTAINED FRENETIC 
MOTION, LOUD RHYTHM AND 

Ecstasy gradually takes over to 

BECOME SENSUALLY TRANSCENDENT. 

The room finally dissolves and 

EVERYONE LOVES EVERYONE AND 
EVERYONE IS A PART OF EVERYONE 
ELSE, AND THE SPACESHIP SLIPS ITS 
MOORINGS AND THE CONTROLS ARE 
SET FOR THE HEART OF THE SUN. 
Drunk on endorphins and sweat 

AND NOISE AND LIGHT AND METHYL- 

ene-dioxymethamphetamine, they 

FORGET THE HORRENDOUS BANAL 
EMPTINESS OF A WORLD WHICH THEY 
UNDERSTAND FAR BETTER THAN THEIR 
PARENTS WHO MADE IT. 

Or maybe it )ust looks that 
WAY. The first time I went to a 


RAVE I FOUND IT FASCINATING AND 
ALMOST VISCERALLY APPALLING. I FELT 
A BRIEF BURST OF SOMETHING AKIN 
TO GUILT (an EMOTION 1 QUICKLY 
RATIONALIZED AWAY) OR MAYBE PITY 
WOULD BE MORE ACCURATE. I'M SURE 
THAT "older" PEOPLE (I'm 33) HAVE 
REACTED SIMILARLY TO YOUTH MOVE¬ 
MENTS THROUGHOUT THE CENTURY, 
BUT THIS ONE SEEMS PARTICULARLY 
TRAGIC. The night had the feel of 
A Mike Kelly stuffed animal 

INSTALLATION, A SENSE OF BATTERED, 
ABJECT INNOCENCE. 

I THINK THE CORE OF RAVE'S 
ATTRACTION IS THIS TEMPORARY 
RELEASE FROM A DOOMED AND UGLY 
WORLD. And with this shared 
EPHEMERAL BLISS COMES A STRONG 
SENSE OF COMMUNITY, A PAINSTAK¬ 
INGLY DETAILED MICROCULTURE 
WHICH AFFORDS A SENSE OF BELONG¬ 
ING, A SENSE OF CONNECTION. It'S 
THE KIND OF EXPRESSION THAT'S 
MORE IN LINE WITH PUNK NIHILISM 
THAN BLIND MDMA-DRENCHED 
HIPPY UTOPIANISM. STILL, THE 
INTENSELY IRONIC DEADPAN MOOD IS 
MORE CHILLING THAN PUCK. I THINK 

it's the mocking of their 

OWN CHILDHOOD—THE LITTLE-GIRL 
CLOTHES, THE LOLLIPOPS, THE PACI¬ 
FIERS—THAT I FIND PARTICULARLY 

EERIE. There's a sense that rave is a 
VIRTUAL Island of Lost Boys and 
Girls, a kind of sensual reposi 

TORY FOR LATCHKEY KIDS. ThAT SAID, 
SOMETIMES RAVE SEEMS AN APPROPRI¬ 
ATE RESPONSE TO BEING YOUNG IN 
THE TWILIGHT OF A DYING CIVILIZA¬ 
TION, A BEAUTIFULLY FUTILE SHOW OF 
RESISTANCE TO THE ONSLAUGHT OF A 
FRAGMENTING CULTURE WHICH HAS 
NOW ACCELERATED TO THE POINT AT 
WHICH THE INDIVIDUAL HAS NEITHER REL¬ 
EVANCE TO IT NOR CONTROL OVER IT. 

[S 


Despite using phrases like "horren¬ 
dous banal emptiness," Jonathan 
Hayes is indesputably a master of 
irony. He lives in New York City, 
where his many sophisticated friends 
frequently praise his utter lack of sin¬ 
cerity. 


36 . La Belle: Lady Marmalade 

37 . Cyndi Lauper: She Bop 

38 . Led Zeppelin: Lemon Song 

39 . Madonna: Justify My Love 

40 . Meatloaf: Paradise by the Dashboard Light 

41 . George Michael: I Want Your Sex 

42 . Musique: Push Push in the Bush 

43 . Ted Nugent: Wang Dang Sweet Poontang 

44 . Liz Phair: Fuck and Run 

45 . Pointer Sisters: Slow Hand 

46 . Iggy Pop: Cock In My Pocket 

47 . The Pretenders: Tattooed Love Boys 

48 . Psychedelic Furs: Into You Like a Train 

50 . Lou Reed: Walk on the Wild Side 

51 , Smokey Robinson: Cruisin' 


52 . Roxy Music: Love is the Drug 

53 . The Runaways: Cherry Bomb 

54 . Salt n Pepa: Shoop 

55 . Sex Pistols: Bodies 

56 . The Slits: Love And Romance 

57 . Soft Cell: Sex Dwarf 

59 . Rod Stewart: Tonight's the Night 

60 . Donna Summer: Love To Love You, Baby 

61 . Sylvester: Do You Want to Funk? 

62 . Tribe 8: She's got les-bo-phobia 

63 . The Vapors: Turning Japanese 

64 . Velvet Underground: Venus in Furs 

65 . Warrant: Cherry Pie 

66. Barry White: 

Can't Get Enough of Your Love 


Scandalous sex 
rumors follow rock 
stars around like 
groupies. Here's a sam¬ 
pling: 

—Angie Bowie finds 

David Bowie and Mick 
Jagger in bed; "Angie" 
is really written for 
David. 

— Nick Cave plays an 
entire Seattle gig in 
1987 with a boner. 

—Backstage with The 
Doors, a groupie is fucked 
with a red snapper. 

— Elvis has groups of young 
girls strip to their "white 
panties" and wrestle each 
other in his living room. 

—Allen Ginsburg brags about shar¬ 
ing a night in bed in 1967 with 

Mick lagger and Parliament mem¬ 
ber Tom Driberg. 

— Madonna cruises the Avenues in NYC 
in her limo and picks up Latino boys. 

—Jim Morrison gives Jimi Hendrix a 

blowjob on stage. 

—Porn star Savannah gives Slash a 
blow job while crouching under a 
table at LA's Viper room. 

— Rod Stewart is rushed to the hos¬ 
pital and has his stomach pumped 
after swallowing several pints of sperm. 

— Pete Townsend was misquoted when he 
said he was bisexual. 

—Whitney Houston is a lesbian. 

— Olivia Newton-John is a lesbian. 

— George Michael is a heterosexual. 


67 . Wendy O. Williams and The Plasmatics: 

Sex Junkie 

68 . X-Ray Spex: Oh Bondage, Up Yours! 

69 . Frank Zappa: Dyna-Moe Hum 

AND THE LIFETIME 
ACHIEVEMENT AWARD TO... 

PRINCE, FOR WRITING MORE 
POP SONGS ABOUT SEX 
THAN ANYONE, EVER. 

—Compiled by Richard Kadrey 
and Mary Elizabeth Williams 


S E 


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/ must be male human beings as well as females, I was ten 
J / years old. I was at the New York Wild-life Preserve with both 
^ / my mothers and one of my greatmothers, in the Hall of 
^ Darkness. The exhibits were illuminated with red light, to 
which the animals were not sensitive, so they behaved as 
they did during the night. 

I was looking through the window at a colony of small mon¬ 
keys when I noticed one of the monkeys near the glass raise its 
Wndq Another monkey abruptly approached the first mon¬ 

key from the rear, its small, hairless penis erect like a pointing fin¬ 
ger, and mounted the first. 

''Do you know what they're doing, Ellie?" whispered my 
birthmother in my ear. 

j had forgotten about everyone else. "Not exactly, mama." 

"Well, this is called sex. The male is raping the female, so 
that the female will have a baby. It's very painful for her." 

"Why doesn't she try to stop it?" 

"She can't, honey. It's holding her down, forcing her. 
Besides," my mother continued, stroking the back of my 
' neck, "she wants to have a baby. She'd do anything to , ■ ^ 

. ‘ have one." 

' . It was alt over in less than a minute. At the end, 

> the male moved a few times even faster and made 

’ ‘ a grotesque face. 








iiW;*. 










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Somewhere along the way, I had stopped 
pretending that I was a monkey and started 
trying to imagine what a male human was 
like. The only pictures 1 had to guide me 
were from the fairy tales I'd watched 
on the eyephones. In my mind, I 
was happily raped by trolls and 
ogres and giants and monsters. . 


Do people have sex, 
like those monkeys... 

She laughed Indulgf 
''Don't worry, honey. N 
more. At least not in tt 
world. We're very lucky 
now." 


.i.dulgently. 
honey. Not any- 
not in the civilized 
We're very lucky to be living 


1 was awake. It was very dark and 
our house seemed completely still. 1 
got on my knees and pressed my cheek 
against the pillow. I raised my night¬ 
gown, reached behind and put my 
pinkie in the little hole I knew was there. 
It hurt a little at first, and then, as I cau¬ 
tiously moved it in and out, it felt strange 
and inexplicably comforting. I closed my 
eyes and pretended to be a little monkey 
getting raped. Although it began to feel 
nice in a way, nothing much happened, 
and after a few minutes I took my finger 
out and rolled over. With a wonderful sense 
of guilty pleasure, 1 fell asleep. 

After that, whenever I couldn't fall asleep, 
and sometimes before I'd even tried, I'd play 
monkey. As time went on, I graduated from 
pinkie to my middle finger. 

One night when I was twelve years old, I 
tried using two fingers. As I pressed them in 
and out, I felt a peculiar tugging toward the 
front, just where the fine, downy hair was 
beginning to darken and thicken. Puzzled and 
curious, I snaked my other hand under my 
body and touched myself at the front of my 
slit. I was shocked to discover the hard, tender 
kernel of sensitivity buried there. 

After several minutes, my body felt like a 
sponge filled with warm, heavy liquid. I 
thought of the monkey's long thin naked 
penis. The sensations inside my body climaxed, 
erupted. I remembered the monkey contorting 
its face in apparent pain, and realized that I 
must be experiencing what it had been feeling. 

Either my birth mother was wrong, or I 
was a freak. Females did feel what males felt 
when they passed their seed. Or at least this 
female did. 


But by the age of sixteen, I was no 
longer content with my fantasies. I wanted 
to find out what male human beings 
really looked like. But as an upper school 
student, my access authority in the virtual 
library was quite limited. In college, things 
changed. As a history major, I was finally 
allowed to view materials that predated 
the Great Cleansing. As soon as I had been 
granted the authority, I put on my eye- 
phones and asked to view a news report 
from the year 2043. Immediately, the virtual 
space before me was transformed into a cable- 
cast news studio from one hundred years ago, 
and standing behind a wooden lectern were a 
woman and, next to her, a man. 

I gasped, realizing that the fairy tales 
I'd viewed as a child were parodies of the 
way males differ from females: the greater 
size and bulk, the coarser features, the facial 
hair, the deeper voice. The person who 
stood and spoke before me in the virtual 
space looked more like an extremely unat¬ 
tractive woman than a beast from a chil¬ 
dren's story. 

After a few moments, the virtual 
scene before me dissolved as a news story 
was presented. It was concerning a meet¬ 
ing of the political leaders of the time, 
most of whom were men. Some of them, 
particularly the younger ones without 
facial hair, were not at all repulsive. 

That night in my dormitory room, I 
could barely contain myself as I waited for 
my roommates to fall asleep. I got on my 
knees, my chest heaving and my pussy 
already wet and aching. I imagined it was 
one of the younger men on his knees 
behind me, between my legs. He had deli¬ 
cate features, and no hair on his face, 
almost like a woman. As I rubbed my cli¬ 
toris, I pushed three fingers into myself and 
imagined that they were the man's penis. I 
reached my climax almost immediately. 


In the days and weeks after this first 
experience, I immersed myself in the times 
long ago when males were half the popula¬ 
tion. Nearly everything I saw surprised me. 
Not all the men were rapists or killers: some 
were gentle and kind. A great many of the 
visuals were stories about the attraction 
males and females felt for one another. A 
man and a woman often touched and 
kissed each other tenderly, as moth¬ 
ers do. The greatest surprise of ail 


"See right then?" my 
mother asked. "At the climax, 
it passes its seed. That part is 
very painful for it, too." 

"Then why does it do it?" 

"It has to. The pressure builds 
up Inside and it has to release it. 
Otherwise it gets very sick." 

The male let go of the female and 
withdrew. Although the red light 
made it impossible to tell what color 
anything really was, in my mind the 
penis was a startlingly bright, wet 
pink. 

"What happens when the female 
makes her seed? Does that hurt, 
too?" 

"No, that's different. Females 
never go through the terrible pain 
the male does when it climaxes 
and discharges its seed. We're 
very lucky to be female." 


Later, when 1 was in bed, my 
birthmother came in to my 
room. I took off my eyephones 
and put them on the night- 
stand. She sat down on the side 
of the bed. 

"Do you understand what you 
saw at the zoo today, honey? 
What the monkeys were doing?" 

I hesitated. "1 understand that 
he raped her so that she'd have a 
baby. The part I don't understand 
is...how come people aren't male 
and female, like all the animals?" 

"Well, a hundred years ago there 
used to be male humans, just like 
there are male animals. But the 
males were mean and cruel. They 
raped and killed everybody all the 
time." 

"And they used to live right along 
with women and girls?" I asked 
incredulously. 

"Before the Great Cleansing. Now 
we don't have any males at all. Except 
for the ones we keep as semen 
donors. And they're kept in 
special places, so they can't 
hurt anyone anymore." 

My mind was filled 
yet again with a pic¬ 
ture of the monkeys 
copulating. 







a 

My quest to know what the 
; human penis looked like eluded me 

for the longest time. Then I realized 
that the medical documents of the 
i era would have to account for the 

male. It took me a number of tries 
before I found the room that had the 
restricted ancient anatomy texts, but I 
, was finally successful. The books con¬ 

tained detailed illustrations of the male 
anatomy, and some had actual pho¬ 
tographs. Disappointingly, none of the 
illustrations I found showed the penis erect. 


^ was that the woman was sometimes 
shown experiencing a climax, just 
like the man, just as I did. My 
" V, mother was wrong. I was not a freak. 

I neglected my studies entirely. 
Sitting in my carrel in the library— 
with the students on either side of 
me presumably pursuing more 
legitimate topics—I'd put on the 
phones and play the sex scenes 
over and over again, my hand 
between my tightly crossed legs. 

I'd time my silent climaxes to 
coincide with that of the women 
in the visuals. Back at the dorm, 

I'd replay the scenes in my mind 
as I fingered myself in the show¬ 
er or in my bed. 

In these scenes of men and 
women having sex, the woman 
was usually bare-breasted and 
often totally nude, but In the 
dozens or perhaps hundreds of 
visual stories I watched, I never 
saw a man completely naked 
from the front. It was obvious 
that this was intentional, a taboo. 

I was almost tearful with frustrated 
curiosity. 


At end of the first term of my junior 
year in college, having spent the last several 
months doing nothing but watching visuals, I 
failed all my examinations, and was requested 
to take an indefinite leave of absence. At first, I 
lived at home, but soon I found a job In New 
York City, and I moved out. I took a small, 
single room in an apartment 
a run-down neighborhood of 
hattan near the Central Park 
homeless encampment. 


n 

I was ashamed of what I had made of 
my life, and I hurried from place to place 
without meeting people's eyes. But gradu¬ 
ally, I began to relax. Now, if a woman on 
the transit strip or the sidestrip met my eye, 

I didn't immediately look away. 

n 

One midday, when I was eating lunch 
as usual at the mealshop, I heard a woman 
ask, "Mind if I sit at your table?" I looked up 
from my plate. I had seen the tall, heavyset 
woman in the shop before, although we 
had never spoken. She was a little older 
than me. She had short, straight, unnatu¬ 
rally black hair. Her clothing was very plain 
and dark. She seemed rougher than the 
women I had grown up with. 

"It's kind of crowded here at lunch 
hour,'- she said with an apologetic 
smile. Her voice was low-pitched but 
not unpleasant. 

I followed her glance and saw that 
there were no empty tables, and few 
empty seats. "Sure, go ahead," I said. 

"Thanks." She slipped into the chair 
opposite mine. "My name is 
Stephanie," she said. "Stephanie 
Helenchild." She offered her hand. 

"Ellie," I said. "Ellie Susanchild." 

Over our two trays of food, we shook. 

Her hand was large, with long fingers, 
and strong. She picked up her utensil 
and looked at her food. "Nutritious and 
appetizing," she said sarcastically. 

"Cheap and edible," I replied. 

We talked all through lunch. I learned 
that she lived nearby, in another run¬ 
down neighborhood bordering Central 
Park. Like me, she performed maintenance 
on the virtual space. 

As we were leaving the restaurant, she 
turned to look at me." Doing anything 
after work?" 

"Not really," I said. 

"I feel like going out after work. 
Want to join me?" 

"Where are you going?" 

"I don't know exactly. I thought 
we'd get something to eat, and 
then maybe go to a music club." 

I hesitated. 

"Come on, Ellie. I'll look out 
for you. It'll be okay." 


a 

Stephanie took my hand and led 
me from one deceleration strip to the 
next until we reached the sidestrip. A 
garish sign projected over the avenue 
announced The Classics Club. "This is it," 
she said. Inside, the club was dark and 
crowded. I recognized the style of music 
from the visuals I had spent so many hours 
watching. Near the door was a long bar, 
where women were sitting. Many, like 
Stephanie, wore their hair short and had lit¬ 
tle facepaint or jewelry. Stephanie bought us 
drinks, and led me to a table. On the large 
dance floor, women were dancing in the 
strange, jerky way I had seen in the old visu¬ 
als. And, barely visible at the other end of 
the club, was a stage on which the musicians 
were playing. After we finished our drinks 
and began to edge our way toward the 
stage, I realized that the musicians 
were...men. Seeing my reaction, 
Stephanie laughed. 

"They can't be real," I gasped. 
"What are they?" 1 shouted over the 
music into Stephanie's ear. 

She said something I couldn't catch. I 
turned my head, and she lowered her 
lips to my ear. "Holograms. They're real¬ 
ly something, aren't they?" Stephanie 
said, her lips brushing my ear. "It's like 
they're almost alive." 

I felt a peculiar exhilaration in my 
chest. I sensed that somehow she knew 
about me...about my secret. "When I was 
in college, I spent a lot of time watching 
visuals from this time." 

"What kind of visuals? What were your 
favorites about?" she asked, smiling a myste¬ 
rious smile. 

I must have blushed. "They were 
about..men and women. How they used to 
be together." I felt unable to explain, but 
Stephanie was nodding as if she understood. 
"Love stories." 

Stephanie turned her head and put her 
lips to my ear again. "I have some very spe¬ 
cial visuals back at my place I think you'd 
really like. Want to see them?" 


She lived in an ancient building 
that, centuries ago, must have been 
quite luxurious, but now was as decrepit 
as mine. Her room had been, apparent¬ 
ly, one half of the apartment's great 
main room. She closed the door 
as I looked around. The most 
remarkable feature of her 
room was set of shelves 


li 














containing row after 
row of small rectangular 
boxes. 

""What are thbse?" I asked, 
pointing at them. 

"They're my collection 
of antique visuals, from 
before the Cleansing," she 
said, crossing the room and 
taking one of the boxes. 

"Like in the space?" 
t asked. 

She opened the box and a 
black rectangular cartridge 
slipped out. "Oh, I don't think 
you ever saw anything like this in 
the space," she said with a smile. 

"1 had to pay a lot of money for 
these." 

"If they're not on the net, how 
do you view them?" I asked. 

"Come over here," she said, 
.valking over to her bed. "I have a 
olayer." 

On a stand next to her bed was 
an antique device housed in strange 
ciack metal. A set of eyephones was 
attached to the device by a narrow flexi¬ 
ble connector. I sat down on the edge of 
the bed and took the phones in my 
hands. They had the same 
flat, grainy quality as the 


ancient ones I'd seen in school. I saw a 
good-looking young man and young 
woman in early 21st-century bed¬ 
room. There was some conversation, 
and then they were embracing and kiss¬ 
ing. I felt my heart pounding as I 
watched the man gradually undress 
the woman, caressing and kissing her 
as she did so. The woman, now com¬ 
pletely naked, undressed the man. I 
held my breath as I watched the 
woman unzip the man's pants and 
lower them to show me, for the 
very first time, a human penis in 
full erection. 

My clit was hard, and my pussy 
was soaking my underclothes. I was 
so astounded and excited that I felt 
light-headed. I closed my eyes for a 
moment, trying to calm myself. 

When I opened my eyes again, the 
man was lying on his back, and the 
woman was straddling him. She held 
his penis in her hand and rubbed it 


back and forth between her legs. My 
own labia glowed with sympathetic 
pleasure. She lowered herself onto his 
penis, sighing loudly into both my ears. 

Without having touched myself, I had 
already almost reached climax. Without 
thinking, not knowing what to do, I tore 
the phones from my head. 

Stephanie had opaqued the windows and 
dimmed the roomlight. I did not see her for 
a moment, and then she appeared from 
behind a tall screen. She was naked except 
for a loose fitting top, which covered her small 
breasts. At her crotch, held by nylon straps 
around her waist and between her legs, 
was...an artificial penis. It looked just like what I 
had just seen in the visual. 

"Shall we do what they're doing?" she asked, 
approaching me slowly. 

She did not really look like a man, but she was 
close enough. I nodded. "Yes," I said, my voice 
choking me. 

"Cali me Stephen, then," she said, 
and reached for me. 


Andrea at the Center, a novel by J.P. Kansas, is being 
published later this year by Masquerade Books 
(New York). 

Besides art directing Future Sex, Evan Somstein is an 
electronic musician and a member of the 
digi-goth band, Battery. 


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s they made 

the date on the telephone, he 
lost half of her words, the 
density of thrill in her voice 
muffling all other noises. He 
could feel her suffering shapes 
squeezing through the fiberoptic 
connection, wrapping around 
him in tentacles of promising 
pleasure. He thought of her 
teeth teasing the veins on his 
neck, and her tongue mincing 
around the enhanced beauty 
of her lips. ^ 























e went out to the airport, 
but before he entered the 
safe continuity of the 
Marriott he drove into the 
airport parking lot. He 
stopped the car and strained to see his 
face in the mirror, knowing he would 
look different in an hour. 

He hadn't seen her since the latest 
surgical installment. The resonance of 
her voice held the faintest hint of mas¬ 
culinity and it catapulted the words 
from her hotel line down his ear, rock¬ 
eting through the epicenter of his 
body. Belly and cock responding to 
her expectant silencesy his body 
ignited to the promise of her final 
creation. 

Opening the door she cast 
her eyes on the carpet in a 
parody of innocence, her 
elegant fingers grip¬ 
ping an estrogen 
highball. He stood 
back to admire 
the body: a 
perfection 
of surgical 
resplen¬ 



dence. Her slender hips flirted against the 
film of a black negligee as she handed him 
a vodka gimlet, radiating a secret smile. 
Cautiously she stood back and let him 
appraise the creation of an ingenious knife. 

He reached forward and brought 
down her convertible breasts while his 
hands opened the white permanent press 
of her thighs. Her nipples were more supple 
than he had imagined, and he was glad to 
have paid extra for their sensitive construc¬ 
tion. Her flesh fell over his hands, and he 
marveled at the square awkwardness his fin¬ 
gers made against her pliant body. 
Searching her skin with his palms he re-cre¬ 
ated her, imprinting the new body with the 
creases and folds on the sole of his hands. 

The red laminate on her fingernails was 
like ten droplets of blood that lay against the 
electrolocized porcelain of her skin. He put 
his mouth to her breasts and inhaled; her nip¬ 
ples conduits to hidden opiates of desire. Her 
eyes drooping under the aphrodisia of the 
first time, she opened her thighs and revealed 
the vault of the new vagina. Reaching 
between her legs, his fingers coronated the 
lips of the neovagina. Slowly she unlaced her 
grafted gift—the Immaculate Pussy unsewn 
before him. She peeled his clothing away, 
whispering pre-recorded words, until he 
uncovered her mouth with his and bit the sili¬ 
cone. Softly, it moved under her teeth. 

Their skin came together like convulsive 
Instruments creating a pheremonic symphony. 

Her beautifully ravaged body lifted to meet his 
as previously veiled desires were swallowed. 

Thus entwined, their bodies began the 
gradual process of passionate and gentle 
cannibalism. Eros arrived on crutches as 
she rehearsed the first act of pleasure. 
His mouth limped down her belly, his 
tongue sliding toward the miracu¬ 
lously healed wound. 


He reached 
forward and 

down her convertible breasts while 
his hands opened the white 
permanent press 

of her thighs 


Her clitoris was an anatomical 
fait accompli and his kisses paused 
there, tongue twirling in geometric 
precision to match the musical 
direction of her moaning. The mes¬ 
sage of mutual desire relayed from 
his tongue and created tiny fits and 
waves underneath the gown of her 
expensive flesh. When he lifted his 
head from between her thighs she 
dripped from his mouth, his chin, his 
fingertips. He pulled himself up from 
the small of his back and parted the 
strange, warm folds of her pussy. 
Diagrams for the mechanics of fucking 
were inscribed on the insides of her cunt, 
on the shaft of his cock, and these binary 
codes enveloped their bodies and dictat¬ 
ed their rhythm. He drove his hips into 
her, her long legs capturing him In a fierce 
web of sinew and skin. Soon, his prick 
began to decode her translations of the 
feminine illusion. 

The ruin of her virginity was ushered In 
like a 21st-century exorcism. Infected by his 
ministrations, he snatched her newly pil¬ 
lowed hips to him and pushed his cock into 
the fleshy mechanics of her brilliant arrange¬ 
ment. Her neck snapped back violently, and 
his eyes followed hers as they rolled into the 
shelter of her lids. Her hands spoke against his 
back, saying, "make me, make me." 

Fucking her, he watched the silent lan¬ 
guage of her smeared mouth as it curved 
around the sounds that were thrust up the cen¬ 
ter of her flat abdomen, across the expanse of 
the pink silicone mountains, up again through 
the delicate arteries in her neck. Her face 
described the grammar of her soul and in turn 
reflected his own arrival as a Brand New Species 
of Man. As he unraveled Inside her, his chest 
buoyed by her hard breasts, and shaft of his 
cock pushed to the back wall of her sculptured 
cunt, he too, was recreated. 

As they breathed the fiery narcosia of the 
first orgasm, she closed her eyes and listlessly 
waved good-bye. The fresh pink walls of her 
cunt contracted as she seized his sperm and 
secreted it in her own vault. Prosthetic hymen 
in shreds, she was made real. 


Alice Joanou is the author of Cannibal 
Flow^er and Tourniquet. Her new book, 
Black Tongue, will be out later hisyear. 

Steven Johnson Leyba has been 
called the father of "sexpression- 
ism." His genes are as mixed as 
the media on his canvases. 


























































































Pussy 


Sidtnese Twins 


A pussy that's really a pussy. A 
phallus that's a phallic symbol. 
The world of J. K. Potter is so 
literal, it's surreal. 

Potter's art begins on a 4xS view 
camera and airbrushes appropriately 
dating from the era that spawned 
Dadaism, the 1920s. He's illustrated 2S 
books and numerous paperbacks for 
people who do to 
words what he does 
with images: writers 
like Stephen King, 

J.G. Ballard and 
Lucius Shepard. 

The photographs 
from his portfolio 
are from a series he 
calls "Neurotica," which deals with 
Potter's fascination with "the transfor¬ 
mation and erotic distillations of 
human and animal physique." 

Like the works of his predecessors 
Cocteau or Dali, Potter's creations are 
better suited to absorption by the psy¬ 
che than explanation by the brain. And 
they're so enigmatically sensual, so dis¬ 
turbingly beautiful, you can't help but 
hold on to the images long after you've 
turned the page. See if you don't agree. 

Lor further information on originals 
and signed limited edition'prints, send a 
*SASE" to: P.O. Box 11, Middleboro, 
MA 02346 


Avian a 






◄ Honorable Mention 
Mark Chamberlain 
New York, NY 
Untitled 


n few issues back, Future Sex 

laid down the gauntlet to our 
readers: You show us what 
rocks your libido, and wehl 
pony up some cool prizes for 
the best of the lot. For weeks 
the entries flooded in: from 
cartoons hastily scribbled and 
faxed off to elaborately conceived 
photo-montages, from silk-screened 
T-shirts to prototypes for fetish gear. 
So many of the submissions were 
great, we decided to give out honor¬ 
able mentions and include those 
images in the winner's circle too. 
Here they are: 


Honorable Mention ► 
Chris t. 
Minneapolis, MN 
The Sacrifice 


A 1 ST Place 
Greg Mobley 
Arkadelphia, AR 
Liz Two 


Honorable Mention ► 
G.. Moore 
Falls Church, VA 


Honorable Mention (Not Pictured) 
Carl Vogtmann 
Chicago, 1L 
''Reptile Lover" 


Honorable Mention (Not Pictured) 
J. Cook E. Brown 
Portland, OR 
"Untitled" 


Honorable Mention (Not Pictured) 

Iligili 

New York, NY 
"Untitled" 

Honorable Mention (Not Pictured) 

Francis Repas 
New York, NY 

" '69' Suit; Leather (Prelim)" illustration by all means due. 


We had a wonderful entry by a 
PHOTOGRAPHER NAMED BrAD 

Wallis that was in the running 

FOR ONE OF THE WINNING ENTRIES; 
HOWEVER, IT SIMPLY WASN'T 
PRINTABLE DUE TO THE GRAPHIC 
CONTENT (i.E., EMISSION OF BODILY 

fluids). Honorable mention is 
















A Honorable Mention 
Lon Huber 
San Rafael, CA 
Huccer 


Honorable Mention ► 
J.C. Brown 
Portland, OR 
"Joseph Coming 


◄ Honorable Mention 
John W. Pruitt 
Columbia, MO 
Kama 


aZ'.s Place 
^ - LaPorta 
. ^ORK, NY 


A 3rd Place 
Ronald D. McDonald 
Austell, Georgia 
Untitled 


Honorable Mention ► 
Bathsheba Fine 
Chicago, IL 
Experience Bliss 


F U 





















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video of 50 one-minute takes from 
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vampire, leather- 
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RAGING RHINO 
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IRIS SILHOUETTE 

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SPUDWAY 

^Access: Itelnet to speedway, net 7777 
Rate: Free 


Users with Internet access can check 
out Speedway for free. Access to this 
no-charge chat board is an accom¬ 
plishment in itself 
though, with 20 tel¬ 
net commands in a 
row failing to get 
me in on more 
than one occasion. 
Once you've 
arrived, choose a 
name for your¬ 
self at the login 
prompt. There are adult areas 
like the de rigeur hot tub as 
well as frat and hacker 
forums. It's fast-paced and 
somewhat impersonal, and 
the feel is that of an all-night 
college dorm bullshit session 
mixed with a lot of guys 
cruising for sex. A frenetic 
shot of adrenaline youth, 
for those who thrive on 
confusion. 

—Mark Faigenbaum 



^me: $45/year, no charge for 
connect time 

Modem: (908) 495-6996, 
V32.bis/V42.bis (908) 495- 
4487 

Voice (908) 787-0663 

Based in New Jersey, 
Islenet has been hosting sex 
chat for ten years. After the 
login prompt, you're greet¬ 
ed with "Oh, (Your name 
here), you're inside of me 




now." Next, admit the lust in 
your heart and other transgres¬ 
sions in Confessions or dive 
into Fantasy and read smutty 
stories submitted by users, like 
"The Trouble with Twins." 
Perhaps the outstanding charac¬ 
teristic of this board is its warm 
atmosphere and general lack of 
macho bravado common to so 
many BBSes. A discussion about the 
ups and downs of meeting people in 
cyberspace, for example, was hot, 
honest and free of a lot of good 'ol boy 
drivel. The smooth interface provides 
several different ways to exchange public 
and private messages, and access to files. 


GIFs, shareware and Usenet newsgroups. 

—Mark Faigenbaum 

EXPOSURE 

^mdern: (212) 691-2679 
Voice: (212) 691-2166 

Rate: 3-month membership/$25 for 3hrs/3 MB 
download a day 

Adult-oriented BBSes are springing up 
like frontier cathouses, and like such cheap 
bordellos, seem to be infinitely repro¬ 
ducible and characterless. After all, where 
the driving 

force is sex, the urge 
for homesteading 
and community¬ 
building tends to be 
secondary. Real 
Exposure, an NYC- 
based board, seems 
stuck midway 
between general- 
interest and 
absolute filth. It 
provides high¬ 
speed (up to 57.6K) 
access to ThrobNet, KinkNet and a few 
other pervNets, and has the standard 
array of public-domain software, 
homespun erotica and GIFs. Lately, 
their CD-ROM offerings have been 
cut back following recent rumors of 
an FBI crackdown on BBSes for copy¬ 
right infringement (supposedly spear¬ 
headed by Playboy and Disney). The 
dirty pickings are a little sparse and 
the interface a little unwieldy, but the 
board does offer acceptable Internet 
access. At this stage in its develop¬ 
ment, Real Exposure is more of a gate¬ 
way than a destination for the virtual 
pioneer. 

—Aubin St. Malo 




St. Martin's Press, $19.95 

THE LAST SEX 

edited by Arthur and Morilouise Kroker 
St. Martin's Press, $15.95 

These two books look at the evolution 
of both the human body and our defini¬ 
tions of the body in a culture of 
inestapable technological invasion/ 
seduction. Spasm is 
both a meditation on 
the relationship of the 
body to virtual reality, 
and a virtual docu¬ 
ment itself. The book 
comes with a CD con¬ 
taining state-of-the-art 
sampled, sliced and 
diced hip-hop cut-ups of 
mass media sound bites, 
and the text read by 
author Arthur Kroker. 

Stepping back from the techno-hype that 



surrounds most VR books, Kroker makes some 
pithy observations about the possibili-ties of 
our impulses 
toward post¬ 
humanism, 
and asks 
some funda¬ 
mental ques¬ 
tions about 
what life 
will be like 
when we 
get there. 

The Last 
Sex is an 



anthology edited by Kroker and his wife, 
Marilouise, that looks at the future of 
gender in an age when the transgendered 
have emerged as a walking and breathing 
challenge to old sex definitions. Both 
the Krokers and the authors included 
(Kathy Acker, Shannon Bell, Stephen 
Pfohl) present rallying cries for what the 
Krokers call "transgenic gender," a new 
gender that lies beyond our current 
ideas of sexuality, one that exists out¬ 
side the dualistic man/woman model. 

Whether it's expressed through digital 
technology, genetic manipulation or 
the surgeon's knife, the morphed body 
is the body of the future. Like co-vol- 
umes of an updated Gray's Anatomy, 
Spasm and The Last Sex will chart your 
journey through this new, man-made 
adolescence. 

—Richard Kadrey 


% 


FERNATA 

Nicholson Baker 
Random House, $21 


Arno Strine has the ability to stop 
time. During his leisure hours, Strine 
removes women's clothing and while 
not imposing himself on them, he does 
interfere with them. After all, he only 
wants to run his finger through his 
coworker's pubic hair which "is very 
black and nice to look at." 

The latest from 
Vox author 
Nicholson Baker 
revolves around 
Arno's adventure 
in the Fold—also 
known as The 
Fermata—where 
the entire uni¬ 
verse, except for 
Strine, is frozen in 
time. The Fermata 
isn't exactly breaking virgin ground 
in erotic writing—though several 
vibrator/dildo/butt-plug-obsessed passages 
are excruciatingly luscious—but it does 
address the ethical and moral responsibility 
of fantasy and—as in Arno's case—fantasy 
that becomes reality. 

By unapologetically documenting Strine's 
love for women and his need to touch them. 
Baker prompts the reader to embrace and 



FUXURE SE 


.5 















explore the benefits of sexual fantasy—not to 
level it with scorn and judgment. 

—Allison Diamond 

PiMALIA 

Mfed by foani Blank 
Down There Press, $14.50 


Throughout your life, 
how many pussies have 
you seen up close? If 
you're a het man or a 
gay woman this could 
be quite a few. If you 
are a straight woman, it 
may be all of one (pro¬ 
viding you've held a 
mirror between your 
legs). Femalia provides 
thirty-two pages of 
women's genitalia. There are no captions and 
no scratch-and-sniffs, although a "map" of 
the vulva is provided in the back. 

The idea behind this book is to show the 
amazing variations in women's anatomy. It's 
not meant to be erotic. Instead it is an extra¬ 
ordinary document of the different shapes, 
sizes and colors cunts come in. 

— Daryl-Lynn Johnson 



i JAGUAR AND THE ANTEATER: 
>RNOGRAPHy AND THE NODERN 
WORLD 


by Bernard Arcand, translated by Wayne Grady 
Verso, $29.95 


BERNARD 

ARCAND 


THE JAGUAR AND 
THE ANTEATER 

; me* 


What makes modern pornography the 
way it is and why does it exist at all? These 
are the questions French Canadian anthro¬ 
pologist Bernard Arcand attempts to answer 

_ from the unusually broad 

perspective of his own dis¬ 
cipline. His climactic con¬ 
clusions, however (in 
which he finally explains 
the book's title), aren't 
quite as satisfying as his 
descriptive foreplay. 

Arcand provides 
one of the most urbane, 
perceptive and elegantly 
argued survey of the public debates about 
pornography and their various hidden agen¬ 
das and assumptions. Examining the U.S. 
Supreme Court's decision that an obscenity is 
a work lacking "redeeming social value," for 
example, he observes, "The representation of 
sex, in other words, constituted a sin that 
needed to be redeemed." In short, Arcand 
believes that pornography, by encouraging the 
individualist act of masturbation and insistent¬ 
ly removing sex from the full context of life, is 
a quintessentially modern thing. It offers free¬ 
dom (from social and physical constraints) but 
at the price of loneliness (in alienation and 
removal from "real" experience). Despite the 
considerable truth in this, Arcand doesn't 
account for such developments as the couples' 
video market; porn—like Hollywood movies—is 
too diverse to characterize so simply. 

—Laura Miller 


IT BOY 

f Cary Indiana 
High Risk Books, $10.99 


A suspenseful tale of whoredom. Rent 
Boy palms the imperfect sphere of sex play 
for pay. Written as a series of letters in this 
Valley-Boy-meets-Gen-X tone (lots of like, 
you knows and whatevers), Danny details 
his experiences as a New York City wait¬ 
er, student and rent boy: a whore who 
mainly fucks men, but will do anyone— 
anything—if the 

price is right. 

Danny's hilariously 
rude commentary 
leads us through the 
crowd of jet-set 
snobs and street hus¬ 
tlers, and the scene 
for closet dick smok¬ 
ers: "You can't really 
make out the faces until you're up 
close, everything at a distance is fuzzy 
and vaguely threatening. Like a 
Rothko painting, but I mean, who 
wants to blow a Rothko painting?" 
But when he hooks up with a crimi¬ 
nal doctor and a slutty nurse, his 
world goes black. This is a masterful 
presentation of a world that laughs, 
sparkles and bleeds, 

—Lisa Palac 



t conics: an anthology 

BIG BITCH 

by Spain Rodriguez 

Last Gasp of San Francisco, $14,95 


Big Bitch is a collection of short 
strips from comics veteran Spain 
Rodriguez that 
revolve around this 
super-spy's life. She 
does everything— 
from saving third- 
world countries 
from U.S. Army bac¬ 
terial warfare testing 
to playing a high- 
priced dominatrix to 
CEOs. This blonde is 
no young bimbo, but she has a high 
firm ass and tits like the French vanilla 
cones she is so fond of. She doesn't like 
rude men, limp dicks or anti-porn femi¬ 
nists. Her motto is "Don't fuck with Big 
Bitch," although her favorite come-on is 
hiking up her skirt and fingering herself. 
Her manservant, Asquith, aids her and 
provides his tongue for her clitoral plea¬ 
sure when the job is done. 

The strips are so short that Big Bitch 
seems to be wrapping up a case and sitting 
back with Asquith's head in between her 
legs every other page. While I'm all for 
women getting as much head as possible, 
Td feel better if she worked a little harder for 
the money. 

— Daryl-Lynn Johnson 





f CONIX 

hus Artists 
Ediciones La Cupula S.L, $9.95 



For those who don't speak Spanish, Kiss 
Comix is a purely visual experience. So why has 
this title been flying off the 
racks regardless of local 
Spanish-speaking popula¬ 
tions? Because the pictures 
are very dirty. Each issue 
contains a collection of seri¬ 
alized stories illustrated by 
an internationally diverse 
group of artists. The print¬ 
ing is excellent, the colors 
vivid and the content 
brazenly sexual. There are nothing but highly 
idealized bodies in these pages, so don't be 
shocked by the foot-long schlongs or ten-gal¬ 
lon jugs. And don't be surprised if you find 
yourself enrolling in Spanish classes. 

—Paul Kimball 

ART OF SPANKING 

ftten by fean-Pierre Enard, illustrated by Milo 
Manara, translated by Elizabeth Beti 
NBM Publishing, $17.95 

The Art of Spanking is an elegant softcover 
black volume featuring the pencil, ink and 
watercolor sketches of Milo Manara, Italy's 
renowned erotic artist and 
ass fancier. Spicy and 
intriguing, the story by Jean- 
Pierre Enard is filled with 
chance encounters on trains, 
luscious young women and 
debonair older men. One by 
one, Enard's protagonist 
teaches a new generation of 
women the joys of corporal 
punishment while expound¬ 
ing a philosophy of individualism and free 
love, where spanking becomes an end in 
itself (not just a means). 

—Paul Kimball 

AT IS THIS THING CALLED SEX: 

DTOONS BY WONEN 

Edited by Roz Warren 
The Crossing Press, $12.95 



Sex inspires many 
reactions, but perhaps 
the most common is 
laughter. What Is This 
Thing Called Sex? sam¬ 
ples women's wildly dif¬ 
fering jabs at this time- 
dishonored subject. 

Straight sex, bi sex, dyke 
sex and juvenile experi¬ 
mentation all get atten¬ 
tion here, making this book entertaining and 
educational, especially for those hapless boys 
who still don't understand that girls need orgasms 
as much as they do. Includes great work by Shary 
Flenniken, Roberta Gregory, Nina Paley and Ellen 
Forney. 

—Paul Kimball 



5 | 


SEX 



























Tommy Boy Records 


From 
appropri¬ 
ation of 
music 
samples to 
transgres¬ 
sive lyrics, 
rappers 
aggressive¬ 
ly assume avant-garde aesthet¬ 
ics—except regarding sexuality, 
where gender roles mostly 
range from retrograde to crimi¬ 
nal. From the whiffle-ball-bat 
rape in the Beastie Boys' "Paul 
Revere" to the "homemade 
abortion" in Akinyele's "I Luh 
Huh," male rappers routinely 
joke about abusing women's 
bodies. LeShaun pimp-slaps 
this legacy in her amazing sin¬ 
gle "Wide Open" by assuming 
a male prerogative as she eyes 
a hot young homie; "Have 
you ever, ever, ever in your 
long-legged life/Had a sneaky, 
freaky finger make that butt 
feel so nice?/Cocoa-butter 
coated or some Vaseline/So 1 
can stick it in with ease and 
turn that ass into a fiend." 
With LeShaun's flirty, devil¬ 
ish, and damn persuasive 
delivery, it's no surprise 
homey likes it. Just a few dig¬ 
its up his back door, she 
rhymes, and he's "screaming 
like a 'ho, begging like a 
bitch." He even yelps 
leShaun's name in a fruity 
falsetto, and no wonder—you 
should see the size of girl¬ 
friend's fingernails. 

— Rob Tannenhaum 

UAmcoArs: the 

INCOATS 

Zeffen Records 




Before the word empower- 
nt became the poster child 
for today's 
postmodern 
feminist doc¬ 
trine, there 
were. The 
Raincoats. 

G e f f e n 
Records is 
now releasing 
their entire 
'og, including their eponymous 
" debut album. Their distorted 
-and-go vocal arrangements 


shuffled with bruised tales of rape, 
void and desolation stood out in 
the stream of power-punk-pop 
bands in late-70s London. Aside 
from their dry cover of "Lola" 
and Velvets space-jam "You're a 
Million," The Raincoats had a 
hopelessly vivid sound. Thb 
choruses-in-the-round, the dis¬ 
cordant harmonies and com¬ 
pelling accounts of female 
yearning and angst characterize 
the much-missed Raincoats, 
and set them apart from all the 
rest. 

—Allison Diamond 


liNi kill: pussy 

UPPED 

Kill Rockstars 


Bikini Kill's record compa¬ 
ny hates us, but that's okay. 
We love Bikini Kill. Unlike 
the pre-fab fashion-victim 



neopunk that graces MTV 
and much college radio, 
Bikini Kill's songs are shot 
through with the kind of 
awkward beauty and frenzy 
that has always been at the 
heart of punk. It's not the 
sound of a mature musician 
or a fully-rounded and 
informed point of view. It's 
an explosion of heat and hor¬ 
mones, of manic desire and 
rage, and it punches from the 
amps in a kind of brutal joy 
at just being able to make so 
much goddamn noise. 

If the history of the first 
wave of punk mostly reads 
like a boys' camp seating 
chart, it's the riot grrrls like 
Bikini Kill who will write the 
history of punk's second wave. 

—Richard Kadrey 



MCA 


»ECI 

of a Mad Band 


What happens when a 
group who made their name 
singing soft, sweet love songs 
decide to change their technique, 
spice up the lyrics, and get 
provocative? We'll soon see as 
Jodeci, who were accused of being 



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Finding the Sensual Submissive Woman 
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The Tightest Hug: Bondage 101 
Four Sensual Scenes for Beginners II 

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FUTURE SEX 


too soft by a number of male lis¬ 
teners after their first album Forever 
My Lady skyrocketed to the top of 
the charts, tries to prove they're 
just as hard as the next hip hop 
group. In place of the haunting 



promises created by innuendo 
are descriptions like "make it 
sticky when I lick it," "lay here 
next to me, so I can keep you 
humpin' to my beat." Thanks to 
the efforts of group member/ 
producer DeVante Swing, Jodeci 
seems to be exposing their 
"harder" side without compro¬ 
mising their very danceable, yet 
soulful, grooves. 

—Gwendlynn Meno 


RIWLL out: 

Wind Records 


Brian Eno once described 
ambient as a kind of music that 
"rewards attention, but doesn't 
demand it." This description 
applies equally to Eno's brand 
of sculptural ambient as it does 



to the dance and techno- 
derived ambient that makes up 
the two-CD Chill Out set. 

Disc one serves up the reptile- 
languid trance grooves of big 
name rave scene-makers such as 
KLF, Moby, Young American 
Primitive and Meat Beat 
Manifesto. On disc two, you get 
a glimpse of ambient-things-to- 
come in the form of such hot (or 
chilled) up-and-comers as 
Omicron, Human Mesh Dance 
and Evolve Now. To get a real 
sense of what Chill Out sounds 
like, just remember this quote 
from The Irresistible Force: 
"People don't want to dance all 
the time. Sometimes they want to 
stop and listen. I say it's time to lie 
down and be counted." 

—Richard Kadrey 


|Fp>LIC DUiER 

Wmulan Records 


Another vinyl walkabout 
through forgotten and ignored 
junk-rock recordings from earli¬ 
er, more innocent times. Frolic 
Diner is garage grunge with the 
smell and taste of old cooking 
grease and the ambiance of 
cramped, sweaty stages with 
bands that are so wasted on 
'ludes or speed that they 
haven't even noticed the 
show is over and the strippers 
have all gone home. Tunes 



like "Chili With Honey" by 
Danny Bell and the Bell 
Hops, "Congo Glide" by 
Ivan Ward & The Swingsters 
and "Mashin' Grapes" by 
Jimmie Maddin & the Party 
Makers all have the giddy 
urgency of the clueless and 
the doomed. This is what 
David Lynch would have 
loved his prom to sound 
like. 


—Richard Kadrey 

ttina: seleniko 

^en Linnet 


Seleniko is a lively record¬ 
ing of Finnish folk tunes— 
mostly about love and mar¬ 
riage—by an acoustic band 
with four strong female 
singers. Though the music is 
from Finland, you find a lot 
that's familiar here: the 
dance rhythms are reminis¬ 
cent of Irish jigs and the 
tight, soaring vocal lines res¬ 



onate with Asian and Middle 
Eastern influences. Imagine an 
intimate, bounder version of 
the Bulgarian Women's Choir. 

But there's something about 
folk music from countries with 
tough climates. While most of 






























Varttina's songs are about love, 
they manage to work in big 
doses of regret and death. 
You'll probably be happier just 
listening to the melodies and 
skipping the translation of the 
lyrics. 

—Richard Kadrey 


E IN THE CINEMA 

fn Entertainment 


Milan Entertainment's lat¬ 
est music compilation is 
comprised of several classic 
movie love themes and 
many lesser known (better 
left that way) contemporary 
ones. Most notable are the 



pretty, familiar "Unchained 
Melody" from Ghost, the 
credits-are-rolling-while- 
you're-swept-away "Lara's 
Theme" from Doctor 
Zhivago and Shining 
Through's lullaby version of 
"I'll Be Seeing You." But the 
listless and tepid scores 
from Benny & Joon, Body of 
Evidence and Prelude To A 
Kiss undermine the swoon¬ 
ing continuity of the collec¬ 
tion. The standout has 
Hanna Schygulla singing the 
title song from Lili Marleen. 
A better title might be Love 
and Sedation. 

—Allison Diamond 


LEZ NIX 

Kuki Co., Inc., 
c/o Pace Products, Inc. 
Requirements: System 7, 3 MB 
RAM, color monitor 
CD ROM 


DUm amour: zapping 

MOVIE GAME 

Kuki Co., Inc., 
c/o Pace Products, Inc. 
Requirements: System 7, 5 MB 
RAM, 8-bit color monitor 
CD ROM 


Japan today is like an expo¬ 
nential extrapolation of 50s 
America: psycho corporate loyal- 
cult, conspicuous consump- 
:ion of burgers, cocktails and 
Marlboros—and a truly inexplica- 
!e sexual censorship policy. As 
m-hounds know, Japanese fuck 
' ims may by law portray all man- 
of penetrations and perver- 



but they're 
digitally scrambled to hide the 
pubes and genitalia of perform¬ 
ers. The Japanese have to make 
do with bare breasts, pixelated 
poking and a surfeit of bulging 
white panties. 

Lez Mix consists of three 
slickly produced QuickTime les¬ 
bian sequences that each culmi¬ 
nate in a chirping triangle, after 
short detours into masturbation, 
kidnapping and bondage, foot- 
fucking and a Bettie Page-like 
lesbian "rape" scene (wrists tied 
with pantyhose!). All the gals 
are clad in corporate office garb, 
except the attacker in her men¬ 
acing Levi's jacket. Interactivity 
is limited to fast-forward, which 
greatly improves the all- 
Japanese dialogue. 

Dr. Amour, on the other 
hand, is a fully interactive sci-fi 
detective labyrinth with 
dozens of sex loops and a 
hokey Blade Runner scenario: 
some faulty but large-breasted 
young female replicants were 
destined for Mars, "but a lot of 
it were shipped to Japan and 
Italy." So you, as Mr. Taira of 
the Love'N Big Tits Research 
Institute, must track them 
down and recall them individ¬ 
ually—to save corporate face, 
of course. You'll spy on their 
fuck adventures, snoop in 
their rooms, and tail them 
around town, discovering 
naughty sex toys and coded 
clues along the way. Write 'em 
down—code numbers will 
access hidden bonus porn 
loops. They'll also get you to 
the next chapter of the story, 
where you'll medically exam¬ 
ine the young sexoids, which 
somehow involves oil mas¬ 
sages and pussy licking. Much 
of the mystery is lost if you 
don't speak Japanese, but it's 
interesting to see live-action 
porn enter the interactive gam¬ 
ing arena. As for the annoying 
pixel problem. Pace is intro¬ 
ducing uncensored versions of 
the games under new names 
later this year. 

—Keith Hammond 



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ON WHEELS, DEEP THROAT, DEBBIE DOES DALLAS, 
ASIAN LADIES, HOT PiX 2, 3,4, 5, EXOTIC GIRLS, 
TROPICAL GIRLS, DIGITAL DREAMS, PRINCESS OF PERSIA 


ADD $4 S/H • 3.5" Or FOREIGN ORDERS ADD $2/DISK • IN PA ADD TAX • MUST STATE AGE OVER 21 YEARS. 

VISA/MC Orders Only: (800) 243-1515 Ext.600MD/24 HRS / 7 DAYS 

FAX (215) 997-2571 • Or CK/MO to: Sexy Software, P.O. Box 220., Dept.eoOMD, Hatfield, PA 19440 


T U R 


S E 



























DRCAN LOVERS 

four Players Productions 
Requirements: System 7.01, 4MB 
RAM, 16-bit color suggested, Adobe 
fonts 

CD ROM, $135 ppd 

In Dream Lovers, superstud 
Joey Romero smiles his goofy 
smile while he gives it to skinny 
blonde boys in the ass. The sce¬ 
narios consist of a solo jerk-off 
session, a menage a trois, the 
classic pizza scene where deliv¬ 
ery boy gets more than just a 



tip, and two guys in the show¬ 
er (complete with extra-wet 
slurpy noises and good pelvic- 
thumping effects). 

The interactivity of this disc 
is less than stimulating, only 
giving you the power to 
decide who Joey fucks first 
and where they do it: the 
couch or the chair. (The best 
feature is being able to cut to 
the close-ups and watch the 
rod-a-thon from a front row 
seat.) Dream Lovers also makes 
a lot of demands on your sys¬ 
tem. It uses lots of RAM, and 
requires a full compliment of 
Adobe fonts or it will substi¬ 
tute whatever it can find, 
making the little cards that 
help you navigate through the 
program look poorly typeset. 
Technical difficulties aside, 
Tm always a sucker for watch¬ 
ing babe-alicious boys fuck. 

— Daryl-Lynn Johnson 

THE MAPDAHS FANILV 

Digital Playground Inc. 
Requirements: Macintosh LC or 
higher, or PC 386 or faster, 

Windows 3.1, 8-bit color monitor, 
Soundblaster card 
recommended 
CD ROM, $69.95 

Here's a standard 
Hollywood-joke-themed fuck 
flick dumped to CD ROM and 
packaged with bogus claims of 
interactivity and 3D graphics. 
The "3D" mansion you "explore" 
is a glorified menu screen for 
choosing porn loops, while the 
"interactive" features are standard 
on most home VCRs: fast-forward, 
frame-advance and jog-shuttle. 


The incestuous Maddamses 
enjoy an evening at home in five 
increasingly queasy vignettes: first, 
Morticia and a spry young maid 
ring Lurch's bells as he groans in 
basso. Next, in the liveliest scene, 
Gomez really pours the coals in 
Morticia, ramming her so fast 
that he exceeds the QuickTime 
sampling rate to hilarious effect. 
This cartoonish glitch almost 
makes you forget his tragically 
wooden repartee, like "I like you 



when you hit the boiling 
point." Raul Julia he ain't. 

Next, a pathetic Uncle Fester, 
who looks suspiciously like a fat 
porn producer in a Merlin cos¬ 
tume, is accosted by a female 
Cousin It with immense breasts 
and dialogue so bad you'll be 
groping for the last "interac¬ 
tive" feature: a quick-cut to the 
juicy genital contacts. Next, 
Wednesday and Cousin It have a 
tired lesbian heifer-feed on a 
couch, then the oily Gomez 
gives daughter Wednesday an 
acrobatic cartoon ram job on the 
same couch. Altogether ooky. 

—Keith Hammond 

GLAMOUR GIRLS OF I94S 

Space Coast Software 
Requirements: System 6.07 or 
higher, 2.5 MB RAM 
Requirements: Macintosh or 
Windows compatible system 
CD ROM, $66.95 ppd. 

Glamour Girls of 1943 is a 
CD ROM full of vintage pin-up 
shots, plus little historical 
movies—but you probably 
won't want to show it to your 
sixth-grade U.S. history stu¬ 
dents. The bulk of Glamour Girls 
is taken up with surprisingly 
fetishistic images of 40s babes, 
sometimes nude and sometimes 
in panties and garter belts, and 
often wrestling each other. 
Though the photos themselves 
are G-rated by modern kink stan¬ 
dards, the recurring images of 
wrestling, of elaborate underwear, 
and of women with real bodies 
(ample hips and breasts that 
weren't purchased in some Beverly 
Hills clinic) make this disc a 
tasty bit of fetish eye candy. 








































a there are some 

movies about 

Riveter and 
other uncon- 

come-a-long- 
way-baby images. Forget them and 
stick to the smut. 

—Richard Kadrey 

STiGO 

by Romana Machado 

First there was PGP, and now 
next big step in data protection is 
here—and it's cheap. Stego is a 
software tool that takes your 
encrypted messages and hides 
them inside PICT image files. In 
other words, no one has to know 
that you have any encrypted files 
on your system. By hiding mes¬ 
sages inside images, you get dou¬ 
ble the protection of standard 
encryption. First, a snoop has to 
know that there's hidden data 
inside a normal-looking image file, 
and second, the snoop then has to 
crack the encryption code of the 
file itself. 

Like PGP, you can get a 
Macintosh-compatible copy (PC 
and other versions are under 
development) of Stego free 
from the following anonymous 
FTP site: sumex-aim.stanford.edu. 
Check the Infomac/Recent direc¬ 
tory. If you want 
Stego updates 
and additional 
features, you 
can register it 
with Romana 
Machado, its 
author, for $15. 
You can contact 
her via email: romana@apple.com. 

—Richard Kadrey 




t FEMNiS EROTIQUES 

:ted by Andrew Blake 
Ultimate Video 

Blake presents more of his 
trademark material: glossy but for¬ 
mulaic, uniformly insincere sex 
scenes. This time the gimmick is 
sex machines, including a mechan¬ 
ical device that pokes a dildo in and 
out of a woman's dry-as-a-bone 
pussy, and some bogus-looking 
high-tech gizmos. The women 
employing these creations wear 
Cleopatra wigs and make lots of 
"porno face" (kinda like imitating a 



goldfish). Every once in a while 
there's a flash of imagination—two 
cowgirls dust it up in a sexual cat- 
fight—or even wit as a silicone 
sweetie in riding clothes strolls away 
from her beloved horse to a human 
stud waiting nearby and wearing, 
yes, a long brown pony tail. The 
most sensuous sequence, shot in 
black and white, features a woman 
with a truly beautiful body simply 
frolicking in the surf, never once 
feeling com¬ 
pelled to dis¬ 
play her body 
like Carol Merrill 
caressing a 
refrigerator. 

Virtually all of 
the dialogue-free 
performances 
seem phoned in, but anyone with a | 
serious clothing fetish — whether | 
it's lingerie, leather, high heels or, | 
especially, latex—^will love this film. 
And everyone's lipstick looks fabulous. 

— Laura Miller 

f TC|cyO DECADENCE 

^^^cted by Ryu Murakami 
Triboro Entertainment 

Tokyo Decadence is a glossy, 
big-budget Japanese production that 
cops techniques from both the art 
and porn film worlds, but unfortu¬ 
nately ends up combining many of 
the most annoying aspects of both. 
The plot: Ai is a prostitute who 
works for a house specializing in 
S/M. Mostly, Ai works as a bottom— 
and we get lots of long, elaborate 
and gorgeously photographed scenes 
of humilation and bondage. Then, 
Ai decides along the way that her life in 
the fetish world has overwhelmed her, 
and she bails out in a final contrived 
and obvious scene. 

The real problem with Tokyo 
Decadence is that the writer/director, 
Ryu Murakami, wants to have it 
both ways: he wants to show us the 
desperate and absurd lengths some 
of Ai's customers will go to to get 
off, but he wants to be sexy, too. 
This tension is never resolved — 
either for the 
characters or the 
movie. 

Tokyo 
Decadence is beau¬ 
tiful to look at, 
from the sets to 
the actors to the 
fetish costumes— 
latex body suits, 
lingerie and lots of spike heels, but 
ultimately the movie falls into that 
weird category of Films To Watch 
With The Sound Off. 

—Richard Kadrey 




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Sharon Mitchell's Sex Clinic 

features porn butch Mitch as a "sex 
therapist, " helping her clients with a 
little hands and mouth-on technique. 
Unfortunately her ministrations to the 
limp dick of her first patient leave his 
dick limp. For those who have a 
Florence Nightingale fetish, sit this 
movie out and find someone to play 
doctor with you. 

— Daryl-Lynn Johnson 

Imagine an episode of Nova with 
beaver and you've got the very British 
Lovers' Guide series (Lifetime Vision). 
Poker-faced Dr. Andrew Stanway aus¬ 
terely narrates while refreshingly ordi¬ 
nary-looking couples of varying ages 
and ethnicities tackle "Advanced 
Lovemaking Techniques" or strive for 
"Better Orgasms," Probably not nec¬ 
essary if you've progressed beyond 
the basics, but give the English credit 
for their practicality. 

—Mary Elizabeth Williams 

Local girl Kiva (featured in this issue of 
FS) co-produces and stars in the imag¬ 
inative, hardcore video Completely 
Kiva. While channel surfing one 
morning, Kiva finds a sexier version of 
herself on the tube and learns the art 
of orgasm from her alter ego. Real 
female come shots and lots of double 
penetration give this tape high marks. 
$30 from KPC Productions, 298 4th 
Ave., #304, SF, CA 94118. 

—/. Castle 

Despite the awkward and arty pagan 
ritual scenes. The Coven (Vivid) fea¬ 
tures good-lookin' women and men 
who sometimes seem to actually like 
fucking each other. Gold stars also 
given for naturalistic lighting and 
high production values. 

—Paul Kimball 

David Bowie cruises through his 
entire personality-crisis career with 
Bowie: The Video Collection (Ryko 
Vision), a compilation that takes him 
from androgynous space boy toy to 
postmodern superstar. 

—Richard Kadrey 

X Mix 1 (STUDIO K7) is a video col¬ 
lection of techno dance tunes com¬ 
plete with computer-generated 
images from independent video 
artists. Stylish and clever, the visuals 
range from the psychedelic to the 
scientific. Available from Video Music 
Inc., 1210 Stanbridge St., #125, 
Norristown, PA 19401. (215) 278- 
7240. 

—R.K. 


In Ona Zee's Sex Academy (Ona Zee 
Productions), Ms. Zee-—one of the 
most Intelligent and attractive erotic 
vid stars around—lectures and 
demonstrates the finer points of 
adult film sex with an eager and 
attractive group of young students. 

—R.K. 



Samuel R. Delany is one of the most 
influential science fiction writers alive. 
His works inspired the first wave of 
cyberpunks and introduced a messy, 
ambivalent sexuality to a genre mostly 
stuck in adolescent groping. The 
Motion of Light on Water 
(Masquerade) is his sexually open 
autobiography set in the 60s East 
Village. 

—R.K. 

Tales of Times Square (Feral House) is 
cartoonist josh Friedman's first collec¬ 
tion of stories. It's a series of snapshots 
of the sex biz in the Big Apple, a sort- 
of low-rent and very sleazy take on 
Damon Runyon's Broadway stories. 

—R.K. 

Beauty (Dell) is a frightening novel 
about plastic surgery as an art form. 
Author Brian D'Amato deftly mixes 
horror, art world conceit and enough 
coolspeak to fill a whole issue of 
Interview. 

—R.K. 

The protagonist of Kathe Koja's novel 
Skin (Tor) is a dancer who keeps 
pushing the envelope of the human 
body's capabilities. She finally 
decides to redesign with her body 
altogether and from that point on, 
this disturbing novel becomes horrific. 

—R.K. 

Scott Bukatman's greatest accom¬ 
plishment may be that he's an acade¬ 
mic, and yet still readable. Terminal 
identity (Duke University Press) is his 
dissection of postmodernism and 
modern science fiction, from 
Neuromancer to Cronenberg to Blade 
Runner and beyond. 

—R.K. 




Self-proclaimed Dyke Diva Gretchen 
Phillips Is best known for recording 
with the band Two Nice Girls. She's 
just released her first solo recording. 
Welcome to my World and a Half 
a combo-pack of spoken word pieces 
and folky rock tunes. Available for 
$8.50 from G. Phillips, P.O. Box 
4600, Austin, TX 78765. 

—R.K. 








































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ANOTHER TASTE OF HONEY 


© 1994 by Granger A. Davis 



















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